


How to handle ISO

by j_obsessed



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: (in chapter 5), Adorable, All The Ships, Coronavirus, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Honestly cavity inducing, Kissing, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Team Dynamics, Team Fluff, Team as Family, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25103512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_obsessed/pseuds/j_obsessed
Summary: This got real fluffy. Like. Team fluff at it's best. More chapters about the individual couples to come <3 because fluff is where it's at imo :')
Relationships: Eoin Morgan/Ben Stokes/Mark Wood, Jimmy Anderson/Alastair Cook, Jonny Bairstow/Chris Woakes, Jos Buttler/Joe Root, Stuart Broad/Steven Finn
Comments: 272
Kudos: 25





	1. We're indefinitely unemployed?!

**Author's Note:**

> in honour of the Joseph's   
> here is a thing   
> to make you all smile   
> https://www.instagram.com/p/CDCLeUmhzWJ/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link  
> <3 they're in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because this definitely happened, and i love writing fluff <3  
> Please enjoy <3

"Wait, you mean to say, that we’re indefinitely unemployed?” Jos says, eyes widening at the text that Morgs has just read out to the group, describing the conditions and cease of ALL CRICKET indefinitely, due to the Coronavirus and its impact throughout not only England but the entire world.

Needless to say, almost everyone in the squad (who managed to make it to training today) looks unbelievably frazzled, visibly nervous, and very concerned.

“Okay, Jos, sweetheart, there’s no need to be so morbid. It’s going to be okay.” Joe squeezes his boyfriend’s hand softly and runs his thumb over Jos’ knuckles, that have almost turned white, with the way he’s clinging onto his boyfriend for dear life. He leans over, to press his lips to Jos’ shoulder, relaxing as he feels some of the stress leave his boyfriend immediately.

“He does have a point you know… not that I’m panicking but, it’s reality. And, not to mention, we’re all going to be separated, which means we aren’t going to be able to see each other and, fuck- I’m actually going to miss you idiots.” Morgs, ever the robot, has a resigned, and almost, melancholy expression, drowning his features, as Ben’s hand cards softly through his hair. Just as he’s said that, Stu strolls over, through with calling his boyfriend and making his way back to the team.

“Awww Morgs you’ve gone soft on us, I always knew you loved us. Mr Robot has feeeeelingggssss.” Stu coos, pinching Eoin’s cheeks lightly, before his hand is batted away by a protective Ben, who bundles the shorter ginger into his arms.

Mark gives him a glare and shuffles to Ben’s side defensively. “Shut up Stu, I know you feel the same, I heard you talking to Finny on the phone about how much you’re gonna miss Rooty’s antics, AND Jonny’s pining for Chris,” he points out, letting his fingers flutter over the limited-overs captain’s cheekbone.

“HEY, it’s mutual, and it’s not pining!” The ginger batsman seems awfully put out, pouting unhappily, until his other half pokes his cheek, both of them smiling saccharinely at each other.

“Oh my god Stuuuuuuuuuuuuu, you’re gonna miss ME?! I’m gonna miss you so much too.” The young blonde is basically bouncing on his tippy toes with excitement at being mentioned, as he bounds over to the tall fast bowler and squishing him into a hug. And if Jos looks over and almost cries because his boyfriend is the most beautiful, happy, gorgeous ray of sunshine that ever existed, well, no one can tell him _shit._

“I think-” All eyes turn to Jimmy, who has been silent since Morgs read out the team notice. Joe’s still clutching at Stu’s shoulder but turns his head anyway, and Jos actually does manage to tear his eyes away from his boyfriend. It’s unspoken really, that if James Anderson talks, everyone listens. “I uh, I’m heading up… I’m going to be staying with Ali. Yeah.”

“Oh,” Stu says, raising his eyebrows and making a bit of a duck face. Joe gets off him and mimics the gesture, with a hand on his hip.

James ducks his head behind his best friend, lightly slapping his shoulder, and flicking Joe’s shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Chris whispers out, before giving the bowler a blinding grin, coupled with rosy cheeks, because _duh._ “We knew, or we had a hunch, but thank you for telling us. Tell Cooky we miss him.”

Jos places his hand over Jimmy’s shoulder and squeezes softly, earning himself a soft, grateful smile.

Joe grins, extremely pleased. “Yeah! You better keep us updated Jimmy, we want to hear about our Chef,” he says, winking conspiratorially. “And while we’re on the subject, Jossy and I will be staying at his place together, since, I’m not so sure it’s a good idea for us to be driving all the way to Leeds tonight.”

Jos leans over to peck his boyfriend’s temple, however, at the same time, Joe turns to peck his boyfriend’s shoulder, so they end up catching each other’s lips. Both smiling into the kiss, Joe turns around to wrap his arms over his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Jimmy coughs, but it doesn’t deter them in the slightest. Mark rolls his eyes and complains loudly, “again with the kissing, you two?!” but it doesn’t faze them in the slightest. Jos’ hands find their way to Joe’s lower back, holding them together securely, while their teammates either; a) turn their faces away from the intimate moment in fondness and fluff-induced-pain, b) smile adoringly, because Joe and Jos finally feel comfortable to kiss like this, unguarded, carefree and un-surreptitious in front of them, or c) …

“Alright alright keep it down you two, you’ve got at least two weeks of uninterrupted Joe and Jos time, where you can do all that as much as you’d like-”

“Don’t you start Jonny, I love you, but you have no right. I heard Chris and you going at it last week in your room at the Ageas Bowl, you hypocrite!” It’s teasing and fond, the way the two wicketkeepers go at it, they may be competing for the same position, but it never gets in the way of their friendship.

“Jooooossssssss,” Bairstow punches his friend’s shoulder, as Jos hip-checks him. Moments later a soft “love you too” is muttered back, both keepers grinning at each other.

“I KNEW IT WAS YOU TWO!” Jimmy points at them, eyes bright and sparkling. “Pay up Stu!”

Both Jonny and Chris flush a magnificent red, the brunette covering his face with his hands as he laughs. “Sorry lads. But uh, in case anyone was wondering, Jonny and I will be staying together at my place.”

“Finny is coming up to stay with me and-”

“Yes, Stu we ALL heard you on the phone,” Morgs sends Stu a cheeky grin, “and we ALL heard your very detailed plans for tonight, regarding your bed-”

Stu’s eyes widen in panic.

“Oh my god, _NO,_ NO I DO NOT NEED TO HEAR THIS!” Jimmy’s exasperated and mildly panicked voice (accompanied by a gesture of covering his ears and curling in on himself, which has Jos and Jonny in literal stitches, they’re almost on the floor, actually, they probably would be, if their respective boyfriends weren’t holding them up…) cuts Morgs spiel, but clearly, it is not enough to distract the continued ramble.

The poor blonde bowler has turned almost scarlet and is hiding his face behind his hands, muttering “God give me strength,” leaning his hands (and by extension, his face) on Jimmy’s shoulder. The brunette man just pats his back consolingly, with a very discomforted expression. (Say what you want about James Anderson, but that man loves his teammates… _his family.)_

“And what you were going to do with your fingers in the kitchen and-”

A muffled ‘Christ _PLEASE’_ escapes Jimmy’s shoulder (i.e. Stu), to which Joe snickers, before controlling himself, as a result of a fond, yet reprimanding stare from his boyfriend. Jonny takes a second to admire how Jos can look both disapproving, chastising and so undeniably _in love_ at the same time, before hurrying to Stu’s rescue.

“I do NOT need to be scarred any more than I already have been Morgs, _please_ , for the love of God, shut up,” Jonny says, covering his captain’s mouth with his hand, only to have Chris yank it back, (very carefully) immediately lacing their fingers together, maybe a little jealously...

Ben and Jos shoot the Brummie a knowing look, who in turn looks down at his feet shyly. Jonny slowly tilts his boyfriend’s head upwards, before pecking him ever so chastely.

Ben admonishes Morgs by poking his cheek lightly, but melts at the sight of his boyfriend’s smile, as they gaze at each other lovingly.

“And you say we’re gross!?!?!? This is FAKE! FAKE I TELL YOU!” Joe’s pout makes an appearance, and Mark watches as Jos physically fights with himself to ensure he does not tackle Joe to the floor and make out with him then and there. He chuckles softly to himself and presses a soft peck to Eoin’s forehead. “We’re staying at Morgs’ place, so we’ll be close by, in case any of you need anything."

“That way we’re all a little closer. Hopefully, restrictions loosen up, and we can get together easier than if we were at mine.” The taller ginger adds.

“Ben, we all know the real place you’re staying at Morgs’ place don’t kid yourself, it’s just because-”

“JOSEPH CHARLES BUTTLER, I swear to fucking Christ if you speak another word, a single word more, I’ll cut you from the ODI squad. It doesn’t matter how good you are. Do NOT test me.” That’s a menacing threat from their usually very cool, calm, captain, who is currently blushing almost as red as his own hair. He also has a finger pointed viciously at Jos’ throat, who looks way too much like the meme of the cat who’s being held at knife-point but is still smirking obnoxiously.

Mark, who is a little new here, doesn’t exactly seem to know what’s happened, and very eagerly stares at Jos, imploring him to continue.

But before Jos can possibly jeopardise his spot, his lovely (and very protective) boyfriend steps in front of him and lowers Eoin’s hand calmly. With a mischievous glint in his eyes he pipes up, “It’s because, Morgs has soundproofed walls, whereas Ben’s penthouse apartment does _not,_ and they’ve already been scolded by Benny’s neighbours for being too loud and for the ‘repetitive banging sounds’ that shake the walls.”

Mark outright cackles, Joe’s worried the brunette is going to fall to the floor, but Ben seems to acknowledge this, and shoots an arm out and steadies his boyfriend. Jimmy almost chokes on his own breath, Chris bursts into laughter and Jonny hides his snickers into his hand. Stu looks less embarrassed at his own exposé, and mouths a very distinct ‘karma bitch’ at Morgs, who is trying very hard to make himself invisible by hiding in Ben’s other arm- the one that isn’t saving Mark from hitting the ground.

To his credit, the taller ginger doesn’t look even the slightest bit perturbed. He just raises his eyebrows at the two young blondes in a sort of ‘touché, we’re even now,’ after last week’s stunt where Eoin had switched Jos and one of the manager’s names in Joe’s phone. (You can imagine how that went…)

Joe holds his hand up, and Jos high fives him immediately, both blondes looking utterly too smug for their own good, with matching Cheshire grins. Stu holds out an elbow for Joe to tap, which results in cacophonous laughter from everyone.

“We’re gonna be okay, right?”

“Of course, Joey, we’ll be just fine. This is just for a little while, just to make sure that we stop the spread before it gets past the point where it can be controlled,” Jimmy smiles encouragingly, ruffling the young blonde’s hair lightly. “If anyone needs anything at all, send a message on the group WhatsApp, and we’ll do our best. Ali never shuts up about how much he misses you guys, so, please do bother us.”

“Us too. We can’t promise that we’ll be on call all the time-” Chris begins.

“Since we’ve got some catching up of our own to do,” Jonny grins brightly, sticking his tongue out as his boyfriend hides his face again.

“But we are always there,” said boyfriend finishes, once he’s recovered from Jonny’s scandalous commentary.

The statement alone, and the way it was delivered by the newest couple, would have made everyone melt, but Joe’s responding grin makes it inevitable.

“That goes for us too guys, Jos and I, we’re always free if you just want to talk for a bit, or if you feel like some homemade food, we can always drop some over.”

Jos hums his agreement, pulling his boyfriend into a tight back-hug. “And, the talking thing. That’s important. We love you, and we want to know you’re alright.”

They both receive adoring looks from the rest of the boys, and Jos quickly ducks his head into Joe’s shoulder. The younger boy’s hands flit upwards to play with the soft strands of sandy hair, and he just makes out from the corner of his eye, Ben and Morgs turning to look at each other, looking incredibly fond, and proud, and _happy._

Jos, who still has his face tucked into Joe’s shoulder, tilts his head to the side and catches Jonny and Jimmy smiling proudly at him.

It takes Joe about 0.2 seconds to pull everyone into a group hug, and he does his damned best, not to tear up. He’s trying, really really hard.

The subtle things, they all do, just to ground each other and make sure that they’re all okay, become glaringly obvious. Usually, the atmosphere is not delicate enough for it to be noticeable. But today, even though it’s still all normal behaviour, (nothing out of the ordinary for them being such a tight-knit group), it feels different. The little things mean more.

Like the way Jimmy lets himself be tugged into the centre of the huddle, with a begrudging but affectionate smile.

The way Chris places his hand on Ben’s bicep, both of them sharing a smile.

And the way Mark tucks his head against Jos’ shoulder and places a hand on the small of Eoin’s back.

How Stu rests his head against Jimmy’s shoulder, breathing softly, as the older man’s hand wraps around Joe’s wrist softly.

Or how Jonny’s arm wraps loosely around Jos’ waist, his other hand held tightly in Chris’, as the Brummie presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple.

And the way Morgs leans up, bracing a hand on both Jos and Jonny’s chests, pressing a kiss to both his wicketkeeper’s cheeks, before throwing himself into Joe’s arms.

Jos tries his absolute best, not to clutch his chest in pain, at how much he loves the way they all stand in a huddle, in the middle of the stadium, reassuring themselves that they’ll get through it together.

Because they’re a team, and that’s what they do.


	2. Video Games and The Great British Bake-Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark, Eoin and Ben spend some time together...  
> And maybe, quarantine isn't so bad 🥰

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for @HeidiJames who has wholeheartedly supported this ship with me, LOVE YOU GIRL, I HOPE THIS MAKES YOU HAPPY <3  
> Also, apologies to my poor @Col_faridi who is definitely going to skip this chapter because she is devoted to Baz/Eoin- DON'T WORRY THERE WILL BE A CHRISJO CHAPTER FOR YOU <3

Mariokart gets intense. It always gets intense. But when it’s Ben, Eoin and Mark, it’s not just ‘intense’. No, it’s ‘ _every man for himself, the only rule is that there are no rules, winner takes all’_ intense.

“If either of you assholes even _THINK_ about blue shelling me, I’ll pick up all your bats and throw them in a woodchipper, and feed you the shavings.”

Ben doesn’t even flinch as he throws red shells forward, resulting in a string of sharp insults from Mark, and unsuccessfully suppressed laughter from Eoin.

“You sure you even know how to _pick up_ a bat babe? Given your predilection for good… _balls…”_

This time, it’s even less suppressed. Eoin outright cackles, and if Mark thought that he’d need to be blue shelled to lose his 1st place, he’s just been proven incredibly wrong, Ben zooming past him as fucking TOAD, on his fucking little motorcycle.

Mark wants a refund on his two ginger boyfriends… “Fuck _off!_ I can’t believe this. This is CHEATING. I call FOUL PLAY.”

“Awww baby, we’re sorryyyyyy.” The taller ginger grins as he wins the race, Eoin coming a very close second, and Mark all the way in fifth place.

“Not really sorry, but,” Eoin sticks his tongue out, and Mark scrunches his nose distastefully.

He pouts dramatically, and his boyfriends immediately lavish him in kisses. It’d give most people whiplash, the speed at which the three of them switch from bickering like three-year-olds, to going at each other’s necks like hirquitickes.

Eoin has straddled his thighs, and is currently plunging his teeth into the pacer’s neck, and Ben is nibbling softly at the shell of his ear and...

Okay, scratch that earlier thought. Mark is totally pleased with the current boyfriends. No returns or exchanges required.

Mark leans over to dirtily kiss Ben, groaning into his mouth. Eoin, being the little shit that he is, takes advantage of Mark's momentary lapse in judgement, and starts the next race. Since Ben is perfect and can do no wrong, _ever,_ he’s more than prepared, and gets his head start, whereas Mark’s Yoshi swivels helplessly, and falls into 11th place.

“You both fucking suck.”

“We love you too Mark-y,” Eoin singsongs. Mark rolls his eyes and sets on kicking both his ginger boyfriend’s asses.

It takes him at least five races, but he does eventually, beat them both. He leaps out of the couch in triumph, both fists raised in the air.

Eoin and Ben both sigh dramatically before the shorter ginger throws himself at him.

“Oh, great one, who defeated all others in Mariokart, the love of our lives, please grace us with your autograph-”

Ben pretends to be security, raising two fingers to his ear and narrowing his eyes playfully. “Sir I’m going to have to ask you to take your hands off this trophy-winning man, paparazzi are strictly forbidden-”

“Oh but Sir you don’t understand, I _love_ him,” Eoin is so close to breaking character, and Mark can only tell because of the way the corner of his mouth twitches up, and the way his eyes sparkle, and they’re so close together and Ben looks so gorgeous and he just wants to floor both of them and kiss them all over.

Mark, never one to be dull, or exclude himself from the dramatics, grips Ben’s bicep. (Okay, so, he definitely just wanted to feel up his boyfriend’s muscles, because when Ben crosses his arms like that, _phew,_ it does things.) “Sir please, this man is not just a fan, is not, just a paparazzi, he is… _my boyfriend.”_ Mark takes the opportunity to tug Eoin to him, gripping at his shirt and pulling him into a heated kiss.

Ben’s pupils dilate, and Mark shivers at the sight. The taller ginger still fakes shock, splaying a hand over his (admittedly beautiful) chest, and gasping. “The great one, is taken, whatever shall I do with myself.” It's adorable, the way Ben drops his guard around his boyfriends. The way he stops being so poised, and just lets himself _go._

“Actually, this is only one of my two boyfriends. Have you maybe seen the other one around?”

“He’s unbelievably gorgeous, and his biceps-” Eoin whistles, and indulges in the blush that flutters over Ben’s cheekbones, “and they’re tattooed, God, the things we want him to do to us- you’d never believe.”

"I think I may have a few ideas..."

“He’s also got such nice hands, really they’re so _flexible_ -”

“Oh, and, goodness, have you seen his back, my word you could land a plane on those shoulders!”

“Did we mention how much we love his di-”

“Oh my god shut up, one of you fucking kiss me already!” Eoin and Mark high-five each other before Ben reaches out to pull the shorter ginger into a messy kiss. Mark pushes up behind them and mouths softly at the base of his neck. When Eoin tips his head back, at a particularly sharp bite, Ben pulls Mark closer so that they can make out enthusiastically, with Eoin pressed between them.

“Jesus _fuck_ you’re both terrible, stop- you have to let me out if either of you want anything to eat for dinner, heaven knows that if we continue at this pace..." Mark lets out a helpless whimper as Ben bites at his lip and Eoin is so so gone. _"Fuck,_ I can’t believe _I’m_ the one cooking tonight-” he complains, trying to escape their grip. (Not very effectively, actually, he's not really trying at all but...)

“God no, you’re not leaving,” Ben breaths out, reaching down to hook the shorter ginger’s leg over his hip, causing Eoin to arch back into Mark.

_“Christ-”_

“But you guys, _food-”_

“Ugh. Fine. But we’re continuing this later. Now, to the kitchen.”

“What? But it’s my night and-”

“We have time, don’t we? Why don’t we have a bit of fun? I was thinking-”

“That, is _never_ good... Or safe, actually. Ben, babe do you have the keys to the safety bunker on you?”

“Shut up Morgs-”

“Make me!”

“Later,” Mark and Ben reply at the exact same time, with devious smirks. Eoin does not shiver. (He does.)

“AS I WAS SAYING…” Mark holds up three aprons, which he’s managed to pull from somewhere (Eoin doesn't question it anymore), and three chef’s hats, (Ben resists the urge to make a Cooky reference, but only just) announcing loudly, “LET THE GREAT BRITISH BAKE OFF, BEGIN!”

“Oh my god, I take back everything I said, yes, let’s do it.” Eoin grabs an apron and runs into the kitchen. Ben grins brightly at Mark, kisses his cheek, and follows their boyfriend hurriedly.

“What’s the criteria, Mark-y?” Ben asks, tying Eoin’s apron back after watching the shorter ginger struggle with it for almost three entire minutes.

“Absolutely nothing, as long as it tastes good! Buttttttt... The winner gets to come first.” He adds, with an exaggerated wink, that really should not be as hot as it is. 

Both gingers freeze momentarily before the kitchen succumbs into absolute pandemonium. It’s absolute _anarchy._

Somewhere amidst the chaos, Mark yells “Alexa play the EMB!” loudly enough for the AI in the living room to pick it up,

Ben and Eoin both squint their eyebrows at him.

“E. M. B. Eoin, Mark, Ben. It’s us!”

Both gingers give him adoring looks, and Mark ducks his head bashfully.

The first song that comes on, really, shouldn’t surprise any of them. All three of them burst into cacophonous laughter, as Mark starts dancing aggressively to Nicki Minaj’s Roman Holiday.

An hour later, the kitchen looks like an absolute disaster zone. Not that it was ever in immaculate condition, but still...

Disaster. Zone.

And by god, that’s no exaggeration. There is flour strewn across the benchtop and caked on both Eoin and Mark’s faces (they definitely were _not_ making out...). There are plates and bowls and spoons piled in the sink, as well as thrown haphazardly across the kitchen. Ben somehow has a suspicious raspberry-coloured lip print on his neck... (which Eoin did _not_ put there) and there are questionable liquids all over the splashback... (no it's not what you think it is, get your mind out of the gutter). 

There are also three dishes, one entrée, one main, and one dessert, (which they’ve somehow managed to coordinate between themselves perfectly) resting on the counter amidst the mess.

Mark is standing very proudly in front of a well-plated dish of garlic prawns, adding coriander as he waits for the ciabatta loaf to finish toasting. Ben is brushing a dark sauce over a few perfectly cooked steaks, and Eoin is dusting vanilla sugar over a really beautiful looking raspberry cheesecake.

Ben snaps a photo of the kitchen counter, and some of his boyfriends making goofy poses with their ‘masterpieces’, and sends it to the group chat.

**19:24 Ben to ODI Idiots**

_7 Images sent _

_Missing our team dinners :(_

**19:28 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_Joey and I literally just said the same thing :(_

_Ok but Eoin I’m mad because you made raspberry cheesecake_

_And now I have cravings_

**19:28 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Looks good boys…_

_But since when can Woody cook!?!?!?!_

_And PRAWNS???!?!? The luxury :’)_

**19:28 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_Stu, we had prawns last night…_

_OMG Eoin pls feed me_

**19:28 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Wow called out by my own boyfriend_

_Chivalry is dead_

**19:29 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_I can assure you, chivalry is very not dead, Jos held a door open for me today_

_Food looks great guys!_

_Miss u :(_

**19:31 Jonny to ODI Idiots**

_I agree with Jos_

_Eoin send us some cheesecake_

_Also Jos, stop setting the damn bar for us so high_

_The rest of us are trying to keep our boyfriends thanks_

**19:31 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_Don't worry babe, you've got me forever <3_

**19:32 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww gross_

**19:32 Jonny to ODI Idiots**

_Says the one who literally has his boyfriend saved in his phone as 'The Love of My Life'_

**19:32 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_Oh my god_

_Joey_

_Angel_

_I will hold all the doors open for you for the rest of my life_

**19:33 Jonny to ODI Idiots**

_Here we go again_

**19:33 Jimmy to ODI Idiots**

_We already know Jos is the most whipped person in the team_

_None of us will ever get remotely close to his level of doting for Joey_

_Prawns look fantastic, have you got a recipe for me Woody?_

**19:34 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_And the steak too oh my_

_Benny you’ve gotta teach me how to cook like that_

**19:34 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_I’m sure you’ve already got all the meat you need Chris ;)_

**19:35 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_Cheesecake sounds like a godsend right now…_

_Wish I could get you some blackberries from my tree_

_JOSEPH ROOT!_

**19:36 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_Sorry mom :P_

**19:36 Jonny to ODI Idiots**

_He totally does tho ;)_

Ben smiles brightly, at the way their teammates fall into their regular banter, and although he’d rather it be in their living room, rather than in a chatroom, he’ll take it.

Alexa has not even exhausted half of their playlist, and while the current feature is not Nicki Minaj, Madonna has been sufficing just fine. The song slowly morphs into one from Bruno Mars, which has Eoin yelling and pulling his two boyfriends to dance in the living room.

The three of them shout the lyrics to the ‘Lazy Song’ (yes, even Ben), before setting the table (while still dancing along to Meghan Trainor).

It turns from playful, into… uh, _teasing_ remarkably fast. Because Ben, really is all about that bass. Especially when it’s Mark and Eoin’s bass. (All three of them would testify that their blonde wiki also, has a lot of bass, but of course, that bass belongs to the one and only Joe Root, which means sharing, is not on the cards. They’d all totally tap that though…)

Mark disappears into the kitchen and brings out three utensils, to which Eoin blinks confusedly. The brunet grins and hands a spatula and a whisk to Eoin and Ben respectively, taking the wooden spoon for himself, before he skips to the next song, and begins dramatically singing (see: screaming) the lyrics to Thunderstruck, complete with air guitar and invisible drums.

After a few songs, they collapse into a heap on the living room floor, a tangle of limbs and laughter and everything that’s just so _them._ And it obviously wouldn’t be _them,_ if one of the three didn’t immediately say… “I’m so fucking hungry.”

And they’re laughing again, drunk off each other while they scramble to the dinner table.

“The results are in,” Mark announces dramatically, as he leans back in his chair, thoroughly satisfied. “And the winner is- drumroll please!”

Eoin and Ben both rapidly drum their hands over the dining table, and Mark clears his throat obnoxiously, “ME!”

Both gingers give him unimpressed stares.

“Let me finish! Me, because I have the most wonderful boyfriends in the world. And because I can’t choose which dish was better. And because you’re both too beautiful for me to be biased.”

“Oh.” Ben smiles softly and stands up.

“Awwwww, Mark-y!”

Ben tugs both his boyfriends into the bedroom, not bothering with the dishes. That is Future Ben’s problem. Current Ben wants both his boyfriends in bed, under him.

Like, immediately.

He grins, as they both catch on, immediately shrugging off their shirts and chasing each other into the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing that one of them will definitely slip on later.

He reminds himself to text the group chat when they're done, to tell them that they’re doing okay, and to text Jos as well, regarding the fact that the steak cooking classes they took together were totally worth it.

He looks over at his two boyfriends, giggling between kisses and wrestling on the bed, and decides that yeah, quarantine life isn’t so bad.

His last and final coherent thought, is _oh my fucking god,_ because Mark has taken to biting at his neck, and anything else is no longer important anymore.


	3. Blanket Forts and Junk Food

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They drive each other insane, but they're in love.  
> Stu misses his team, and Finny gets it  
> Adorable boys being adorable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my dear @Agoodcaptain who is writing a brilliant Stu/Finny fic set in the lockdown. It's adorable, and one of my favourite things to read, go check it out <3

“Stu.”

Nothing. Not even a glance. Steve huffs unhappily from his spot on the couch, where he’s watching his boyfriend lift weights. (It’s not creepy, do NOT judge him.) 

“Stuuuuuu.”

Still nothing. The rhythmic flex of his boyfriend’s biceps is not enough to keep him entertained anymore, so...

“Hmpf. StuuuUUUuUUUuU!”

“What is it, Steve.” Stuart sighs, carefully putting the dumbbell down, and turning to glance at his boyfriend.

“I’m bored.”

The blonde sighs again, thumb and middle fingers resting on his temple. “Yes, babe. You’ve already said that.”

“But Stuuuu-” There’s an irresistible pout on the younger man’s face, and any irritation Stuart may have been harbouring immediately floods away.

“Come here then,” he holds his arms out, smiling softly as his boyfriend shuffles into his embrace. Steve hums softly, tucking the blonde’s head into his chest. “I wonder how ridiculous we look…”

That prompts Steve to laugh, and Stu takes it as a win. Lockdown has not been the easiest thing to endure, especially since it doesn’t seem to have an end in sight. “Probably hilarious. One sweaty, hot and exhausted 6’4” blonde, and one cold, shivering 6’7” brunette, wrapping freakishly long limbs around each other, in the middle of their living room.”

Stu grins brightly, happy to have his boyfriend talking, and not brooding, or complaining about being bored. “I suppose we do make quite a picture, don’t we?”

Steve sighs, and tugs them both to the couch, unceremoniously flopping down onto it, and bracing Stu’s weight. Said blonde, yelps, incredibly high pitched (he will deny it later), before shoving his face into his boyfriend’s neck. There are a few moments of silence, both content to simply lie there on their couch (and in Steve’s case, leech heat off of Stu).

It’s too quiet, and Stu knows, that this is definitely not going to last. He sighs internally, and begins counting in his head. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Fo-

“Stuuuuuuuu.”

Dammnit. Not even to one this time. He can’t help the laugh he lets out, along with the grin that accompanies it. “Okay you grump, what do you want to do, since you’re so bored?”

“Uhm.”

Stuart snorts and continues staring expectantly at his boyfriend.

“I don’t know. But I’m borreeeed.”

“Okay Steve-y,” is the response given, as the man’s fingers come up to play softly through his hair. Suddenly, Stu’s eyes brighten, and he almost (really, it should not be this easy) throws his boyfriend onto the floor with his excitement.

“HEY! I’m precious cargo, be CAREFUL!”

“Of course dear, my greatest apologies.”

The younger man rolls his eyes, before flopping back onto his boyfriend with some, a very tiny bit, of excessive force.

“OOf.” Steve absolutely does NOT revel in the sound made at _all._ “Wow, okay _rude-”_ Stu scrunches his nose unhappily. Steve leans up and pecks him softly for his troubles. “Especially since, I just found a cure for your boredom.”

Steve gasps happily, bracing himself on his one hand, peering down at Stu with this, childlike innocence and happiness, and the blonde can’t help himself, from reaching up and tugging his boyfriend into a kiss. It gets a little heated, neither of them trying too hard to stop it from going in that direction. When they pull apart for air, Steve still has that awed expression on his face, curious as ever. “Tell me! What is it?!”

“Hmmmm should I tell you now?”

“Stuuuuu don’t be a twat. Please!”

Stuart doesn’t even flinch at being called a twat. Between Joe and Finny, he hears it more often than he sees the umpire raise his finger when he’s bowling. That is a lot of times. He presses a kiss to Steve’s forehead and quickly detangles himself from the mess of limbs they’ve become on the couch.

“What- where are you going!? Hey!”

“Patience, my love. Hold onto your horses. Or maybe giraffes, I don't know.”

As Stu dashes into the bedroom, he briefly hears Steve muttering about ‘complicated boyfriends’ and the fact that ‘this is why I have trust issues with men, one moment they’re kissing you and the next minute they’re dashing off and leaving you all alone on your couch like a lint ball.’

The second comment nearly has Stu on the floor, and he almost drops the vase from their bedside table. (Accidentally- of course, it’s not like he was _trying_ to yank the sheets off the bed in a way that would destroy that awful piece of glassware, no sir not at all… He was simply laughing too hard, yes…)

Once he’s gone and uprooted their entire bed and fished some more upholstery from their closets, he makes his way back to the living room.

“What the fuck-” Steve’s astonishingly loud and high pitched shriek almost makes him drop all the shit he’s carrying. “You just scared the absolute living fuck out of me, I thought you were a ghost.”

“Sorry darling,” the response comes muffled, due to the fact that there is currently a mess of cloth in his face.

Stu acquiesces that he probably does look a little bit like a ghost, with two duvets, two bedsheets, and four pillows, somehow balanced in his arms, waddling through the hallway to ensure he doesn’t a) drop anything and b) trip over a bedsheet, fall gracelessly and break his face on their floor.

(Regarding that point, if he did, he already knows that his boyfriend would be of no help at all- because he’d be laughing way too hard to even see straight, and then would pass out at the sight of blood. So yes, Stu ~~walks~~ waddles extremely, _extremely_ carefully.)

He drops all of the linen onto the floor in a heap and huffs, stretching out his arms. He can feel Steve giving him a look, because ‘surely the bedsheets aren’t that heavy Stu- if you can lift 4kg weights you can carry some bedsheets.’

The blonde does not rise to the challenge, simply raises an eyebrow and continues his stretching. His boyfriend grins knowingly, and both of them roll their eyes simultaneously. If Jimmy was here, he’d say something about fast bowlers and their hive mind, and if Jos was here, he’d say ‘no, that’s just Finny and Broady being a disgusting married couple’ as if he and his baby golden retriever puppy don’t ~~eye-fuck~~ eye- _communicate_ all the goddamn time.

“Stu? Everything okay?" He takes a breath before some sort of realisation floods his voice. "Do you want to call them?” The last question is asked with a sort of fondness and understanding, that only really comes due to their shared experience. Being part of a team, and suddenly having that environment ripped from you, it’s not easy. Both of them know it. “Come here, honey?”

Stuart takes the invitation immediately, burrowing into his boyfriend’s arms and heaving out a sigh. “We’ll text them later, but for now-” he looks up at Steve, the same childlike excitement that’s always there greeting him, and he decides that yes, this is definitely a good idea, “we’re gonna build a blanket fort.”

“Oh my god, I love you.”

The blonde snorts, and grins into his boyfriend’s chest. “Can’t believe it takes me telling you that we’ll build a blanket fort, for you to tell me you love me.”

“Stu, I literally told you this morning, the moment I woke up.”

“I-”

“And then again at breakfast, and at lunch too.”

“I did not come here to be atta-”

“And then I told you again when we were… well, you know.” Steve grins happily, punctuated with a wink, and kisses Stu’s nose softly. “You said it back every time you know.”

“Oh. Well. I guess it’s just second nature.” The taller man grins, smiling so hard he scrunches his nose to stop himself from splitting his face. “Oh, by the way…”

“Hmm?”

“Love you too.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slaps his boyfriend’s chest lightly, but then turns to look at him excitedly. “So?! Can we build it now?!”

“Yes, you big three-year-old, come on, grab two chairs from the dining table.” With the grace of a giraffe, Steve hurries, positioning the chairs beside the sofa _unbelievably_ meticulously, going so far as to bat Stu’s hand away when he reaches for the blankets.

“Not yet Stu! It has to be _perfect!”_

“Yes dear, just like you.”

“Shut up.”

Stu grins, knowing he’s successfully embarrassed and/or frazzled his boyfriend. “It’s true darling,” he coos, moving to softly peck his boyfriend’s cheek.

Steve shakes his head and ducks over to the other side of the couch, under the guise of shifting the chair to perfection. “Is it even?”

Stuart considers messing with his boyfriend, but the concentrated look in his eyes and the amount of effort he’s putting into making this perfect- just stops him from doing that. Only just. Only very barely just. “Yes babe, it’s good. Help me with the sheet now?”

“Yay! Yes of course!” They drape the sheet over the structure, and Stu absolutely does not take delight in the way his boyfriend smiles, jumps up and down on the spot, and claps. Not even a little bit. (He’s lying, he stands there and stares at the love of his life for almost three whole minutes with a dopey smile on his face that would make Mark, and probably even Chris proud.)

Steve dives into the fort, and Stu silently thanks his mother for telling him to put that rug beneath the sofa, because without it, his boyfriend definitely would have just bruised and probably torn skin on both his knees.

“StUUUUuuUuU!”

“YES DEAR!?”

“Christ Stu, no need to be so loud-”

“I- I can’t win here, absolute bollocks, as Jimmy would say.” He can hear Steve’s cheeky laughter from inside the makeshift tent, and even if he’s being battered with abuse and NOT banter, he smiles and takes it anyway. “Whatd’you need?”

“Pillows! And the rest of the ninety-six blankets you brought us. Set them up in the tent, I’ll be right back.”

As any dutiful boyfriend would, Stu embarks on his endeavour to make sure the blanket fort is constructed to his love’s liking. He pushes a few pillows up against the front of the sofa, and piles the rest of them around the rug, before deciding that the floor isn’t cushioned enough. He grabs the plushest quilt there is, and lays it over the floor, before tucking it under all the pillows. He notices that the sheet is drooping a bit in the centre between the chairs, so he sticks his head out to call to his boyfriend to bring them the t-ball tee that they have in their shoe cabinet.

But lo-and-behold, as he’s about to do just that, said boyfriend dashes into the living room, with said apparatus, as well as some fairy lights and some books. Stu grins up at him, and at the way that somehow, his other half always seems to know exactly what he’s thinking.

Steve deposits everything at the opening of the tent, and then dashes off again, Stu doesn’t exactly know where to, but from the sound of clashing metal and opening doors, he’d guess the kitchen.

“StUuuUUuUU!”

At this point, he’s not even bothered to be exasperated. He just sighs, props up the bedsheet on the tee-ball stand, and starts threading the fairy lights across the back of the couch, and around the handles of the chairs, before plugging them into the wall a few metres away and flicking them on. "Yes, dear one?"

“Stu, babe, we have no junk food.”

He can actually hear the pout in Steve’s voice, he doesn’t even need to see it to know it’s there. As much as he should definitely not say the following words, he does, and he doesn’t even regret them at all. “Grocery store run?”

“Really?” Stuart swears on his life, that if they were texting right now, there would be a hundred of the ‘please sir’ emojis being sent to him.

“Of course, come on, let's go!” Steve pulls him up, and Stu (maybe sort of intentionally) crashes into his boyfriend’s chest, leaning up to kiss him sweetly. “Also, I kind of maybe love you a little bit.”

“I also kind of maybe love you a little bit too darling.” They smile disgustingly at each other for a moment, and once again, Stu is thinking about how if Jonny was here, he’d chuck a keeping glove at their heads, and how if Chris was nearby, he’d admonish his boyfriend, before they started doing the exact same thing- staring at each other with sickening amounts of affection in their eyes.

Steve grins at him, tugging on a beanie and throwing one at Stu before lacing their fingers together, and heading down the street to the nearest Tesco. It’s mid-April, and Easter displays are out in full swing, so they take the long route- under the guise of exercise, of course- weaving through the streets and admiring all the lit-up houses and beautiful backyard decorations. It feels very domestic, walking through the city like this, hand in hand, on their way to the nearest Tesco, to pick up junk food that is definitely _not_ part of their diet plans. He can’t help himself from leaning over, fisting a hand in the lapel of Steve’s coat, and kissing him softly under the slowly darkening sky, in the middle of the street.

He then quickly lets go of his boyfriend, and runs into the Tesco, giggling obnoxiously. It takes Steve a few moments, but he soon darts after Stu, chasing him through the aisles (very discretely!), til they end up in front of the confectionary section.

“Hey! What was that?!”

“Whaaaaat? Am I not allowed to kiss my boyfriend?”

“You’re sure as fuck not allowed to run away after you do!”

They’re whisper bickering back and forth in front of a bunch of chocolate, gummy bears, sour worms and marshmallows. He’s painfully reminded of Joe and Jos, and their affinity for strawberry laces eating them off each other (yep, you read it right), and the way Jonny and Chris bite the opposite ends of sour straps, before meeting in the middle to kiss before everyone pelts them with crumpled shirts and empty wrappers.

Steve’s hand comes to rest within his softly, as he gives him a small smile. “Strawberry laces and sour straps?” He asks, holding up two packets of each before dropping them into their basket. If Stuart breaks down, sobbing into his boyfriend’s shoulder in the middle of fucking Tesco’s confectionary aisle, well, sue him. They shove packets and packets of tooth-decaying stuff into their basket. Bubblegum bottles, watermelon slices, sour patch, galaxy caramel, Maltesers, double deckers and drumstick squashies. Just to make himself feel better, Stu picks up some potatoes, bacon, and vegetables, so he can make potato skins tomorrow under the guise of ‘being healthy.’ Steve laughs at him, as does the cashier, as she’s bagging their groceries (in a reusable bag of course, because turtles), and wishes them a fun night. When Steve grins and says ‘oh, we plan on it’, Stu slaps his shoulder and quickly reveals that they’re building a blanket fort, blushing in a way that would make Chris proud. The cashier laughs even harder while she waves at them. 

When they get back, they set everything out, and Stu takes enough photos to fill all his RAM, before sending a few into the group chat.

**20:04 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_ 3 Images sent _

_Missing our sleepovers so bad_

_Chris and Jonny, we have your sour straps_

_And we got strawberry laces in your honour, Joey and Jos_

**20:05 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_Marshmallows for Ben and Mark-y and of course, Bubblegum Bottles for you Eoin_

_And Ali and Jimmy, double deckers too_

_Hope you guys are doing well <3 _

**20:09 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_Stu, Finny_

_I’m gonna fucking cry_

_Also, amazing fort building skills_

_Fuck I’m definitely gonna cry_

**20:10 Jonny to ODI Idiots**

_This is_

_Stu :(_

_We miss you so fucking much_

_Chris babe hurry up and come back to the bedroom I’m sad_

**20:12 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_What the fuck did you guys do, why is Joey crying in my arms_

_Oh_

_Oh fuck_

_Oh my god :(_

_Fuck’s sake_

_Love you Stu, Finny_

_Eat some for us please <3 _

_We miss you both so much_

**20:14 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_Oh wow_

_That’s beautiful_

_The fairy lights…_

_Shit. Jimmy's gonna have a fit._

**20:15 Jimmy to ODI Idiots**

_Stu we discussed this_

_You’re not allowed to make us sad like this_

_Fucking bollocks_

_Ali, come hug me_

**20:18 Eoin to ODI Idiots**

_You guys :(_

_I’m craving bubblegum bottles so hard_

_But_

_I’m craving team sleepover night so much more_

_The fort looks so cosy oh my god_

_MARK_

_BEN_

_SOMEONE COME HOLD ME_

**20:19 Ben to ODI Idiots**

_I blame both of you for the fact that I’m dealing with two clingy bottoms right now_

_But that’s adorable_

_Love you both_

_< 3 _

**20:22 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_< 3 eating all your candy on your behalf _

**20:28 Jonny to ODI Idiots**

_ Image sent  _

__

Steve’s squeal almost makes Stu tear down the fort in surprise. “What!? What happened!?” Steve only squeals again and shoves his phone in front of Stu’s face. On it, is a picture Jonny has just sent, of him and Chris, millimetres away from kissing, joined by a fucking sour strap. Stu’s heart nearly bursts out of its chest.

__

**20:28 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_OH MY GOD YOU GUYS HAVE SOUR STRAPS_

_YOU GUYS ARE GROSSLY DISGUSTING THAT’S ADORABLE_

Moments later, Jos sends in a picture of Joe holding up a packet of strawberry laces, with a sunshine grin on his face, and then Joe sends one of himself holding said candy up while Jos bites at it, smiling with little crinkles around his eyes.

Ali sends in a photo of him and Jimmy on the couch, curled up with double decker packets visible over their blankets.

Eoin sends a photo of Ben and Mark cuddling in bed, and then a video of him throwing packets of marshmallows and bubblegum bottles at them, all three boys yelling and laughing, pillow-fighting, but with candy instead of pillows.

**20:45 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Hope you guys have a good night_

_Thanks for making us feel a little less alone_

**20:46 Steve to ODI Idiots**

_Love you_

_Sweet dreams and shit <3 _


	4. Zoom-Calling the Kids and Midnight Waltzes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Alastair.  
> The parents who would do anything for their kids.  
> And the parents who have really great kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to @sherlockguineapig who writes the most wonderful Jimmy and Cooky fics, which, more often than not, make me ugly-cry on my kitchen floor at unforgivable hours of the morning. I hope you love this as much as I love you <3 which is a lot <3
> 
> ALSO. Is this my second upload today? Yep. But I had to get this out because it was killing me.

“I will never, ever get tired of waking up to this.”

“You are not my James Anderson. Where is he and what have you done with him?!”

Jimmy growls softly, and leans over to nose at his lover’s neck. “I am yours. Don’t say that again.”

Ali smiles softly, before pressing his lips to Jimmy’s cheekbone. “Sorry darling. You are mine, and I could never be anyone else’s.”

“As I was saying. I will never in my life, get tired of waking up to this. To you.”

“God you’ve become a softy. I should have known, quarantine life and living with me would make you an absolute sap.”

“Can’t help myself. You’re just too beautiful. _Fuck you’re so beautiful.”_ Jimmy nudges at Alastair’s neck, sighing happily when the retired captain tilts his head aside for him, giving him space to kiss and nip softly.

“Even if I’ve just woken up from a three-hour nap, at-” Ali makes to get up, so he can look at the clock on their bedside table, but Jimmy doesn’t let him move an inch away, focused on keeping their bodies pressed tightly together, _“some hour_ of the evening, after three rounds of quite possibly the _messiest_ sex we’ve ever had?”

 _“Especially then.”_ Jimmy chances a look up at Ali’s face, and lets out a pained sigh. “God you’re even more beautiful when you blush. What the fuck am I going to do with myself hm?”

“I don’t know, but James Anderson if you don’t shut the _hell_ up and kiss me right now-”

“But I _am_ kissing you.” And he’s telling the truth too. Because he is kissing Alastair. Just, everywhere that’s not his lips.

He’s pressed kisses along his cheekbone, down his jaw, flicking his tongue softly over the sharp lines. He’s let his lips drag over the tempting column of his throat, and dragged his teeth teasingly across Ali’s sharp collarbones, before pecking and chastely kissing down his biceps. He’s kissed his way down the muscled torso, occasionally succumbing to his desire to bite, and leave remnant marks of his teeth in the grooves of tough muscle. He’s let his eyelashes flutter across the protruding hipbones, nudged his nose against solid thighs, that only a few hours ago were straddled either side of his own hips, working strenuously to fuck Alastair down onto him and _god that’s a memory, isn’t it?_ And now he is letting his lips brush softly over the muscle of his calves, hands running soothingly up his sides, as Ali’s choked gasps and breaths spur him on.

“James. _James._ Kiss me. Properly. _Now.”_ It’s the ‘now’ that does him in. The soft order that he’d follow to the ends of the Earth, as long as it would make the person who was giving said order happy. He crawls his way up the love of his life (yes, he did think that, and no he will not be mentioning that to either Joseph, _or_ one Chris Woakes), to deeply look into his eyes. “And I may be beautiful, but you are _my_ gorgeous.”

He can’t even argue, because one of Alastair’s hands has twined into his hair, and his mouth is suddenly otherwise occupied. Ali kisses like he bats. Methodical and slow, yes, but with an air of sureness, the understanding that he knows what he’s doing and the way he’s going to do it. There’s always a little fight for dominance, but, they’re versatile, and in all honesty, Jimmy wouldn’t have it any other way. Because the way Ali whimpers into his mouth, and the way he grasps tighter at his hair to push against him harder, it’s what makes it perfect.

James eventually does lean over and look at the clock. “It’s 6:45, sweetheart. We need to get up. Because as much as I love seeing you undressed and sweaty in our bed, I doubt the nine other boys you’ve captained are going to agree with me…” Ali laughs and grins up at him in a way that he’s missed so much.

“Why? Not their type?”

“First of all. You’re _mine._ Secondly, the problem, is that half of those nine boys are about as possessive as I am. Chris will definitely be in a mood, Jos will start aggressively making out with Joe and probably screw him right there, Eoin will start something- resulting in Ben getting riled up, which never ends well for anyone in the vicinity, ask his neighbours.”

“Joey did tell me about that… He’s a mischievous little puppy that one.”

“Honestly, I think Stu and Finny are the only ones who wouldn’t retaliate.”

“Okay so, basically, what I’m hearing is that we need to move. Shower? And then we can set up your laptop. Ooooh, we should also get a nice bottle of red. Maybe the one Jossy brought over a few weeks ago?”

“Good idea, come on then, up, let’s move.” He punctuates the last part with a light tap at Ali’s ass, grinning at the admonishment he gets immediately after.

“James Michael Anderson. Do NOT start something you cannot finish.”

“Yes sir,” he winks, and relishes in the way Ali glares at him, before shoving him out of the bed, both of them laughing like teenagers as they stumble into the bathroom, locked at the lip.

-

“Jimmmmyyyyy! Jos, my love, hurry up they’re online!”

“Hi Joey, how have you been?” Alastair can’t even help the way the corners of his mouth turn up, especially at the way Joe gets so close to the camera, and at how Jos seems to be standing, just visible in the corner of the frame, with his hands covering his nose and mouth in, what seems to be love-induced _pain._

“OH MY GOD JOS! IT’S COOKY OH MY GOD. COOKY WE MISS YOU SO MUCH.”

“I miss you too Joey,” he says, peering at the screen, which is mostly just Joe’s eye at the moment. Alastair can hear Jos’ voice faintly, something along the lines of ‘Joey, my baby angel, you’re a bit close to the camera darling, sit back a bit so they can see your beautiful face,’ and he swears on his life he does not shove his face into Jimmy’s shoulder and scream.

“Jos, mate, you do realise we can hear you. That might have been the most disgusting sentence I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth,” A distinct Irish voice bursts from the device, and Jimmy grins at the owner, as well as at the two Durham boys that squish into the frame.

“Same here, AND WE WERE THE ONES ROOMING NEXT TO THEM IN SOUTH AFRICA AFTER THAT ONE PARTICULAR ODI!” Another ginger, this time a wicketkeeper, accompanied by a Brummie laugh also float through the device, as their videos turn on.

“Hey mate, good to see you, Chris, and you may have a point there Jonny, but to be fair, that night was mostly Joe screaming…”

_“JOSEPH CHARLES BUTTLER!”_

“No angel I don’t think that was what you were calling me…”

Morgs’ cackling laughter and Chris’ blushing cheeks are a sound and sight for nostalgic ears and eyes.

“Oh my god,” Joe wails, before turning in his chair to launch the nearest item (that isn’t the laptop- it’s actually a dishcloth) at his boyfriend’s face. Jos only sticks his tongue out and then leans in to kiss his boyfriend softly.

“Don’t worry Rooty, we’re more than accustomed to your volume, Jos must be a good lay…”

“HEY!”

“Don’t worry giraffe, you’re the only one for me.”

“Christ this is going to be interesting, isn’t it?” Jimmy asks, subtly taking a sip from Ali’s wine glass to hide his grin.

“Awwwwwwwwww Jimmy, you looooovee us!”

“Okay, Ben, I thought we agreed that we weren’t going to let Eoin drink?”

“He hasn’t had anything,” the ginger all-rounder laughs, “this is just him; do you see what I am dealing with?”

“It’s so good to see all of you, I’ve missed your beautiful faces. Especially you-” Eoin says, looking directly at the screen, in a way that ensures not a single person knows who he’s talking about. It all becomes very clear, when two seconds later he’s got his hands on Ben, and wistfully looking at Mark.

Joe laughs gleefully, watching as both Jonny and Chris roll their eyes fondly. “And here I was, thinking I was special.”

Jos is quick to respond, slightly softer, but still starkly audible, “you’re so special my darling,” punctuated with a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheekbone.

“Oh my god I’m going to get cavities, Chris, _Chris help me my teeth are in excruciating pain,”_ Jonny teases, draping himself all over his boyfriend, who is barely holding himself together.

“Shut up Jonny, I know what Chris is saved in your phone as,” Jos teases. 

“Oh my god no,” Jonny’s pained voice is enough to have everyone invested, _including_ Ali. 

“Joseph Buttler, as your ex-test-captain, I order you to tell us!”

“Chris Bairstow, husband-to-be,” Jos coos, as Jonny and Chris both throw themselves from the screen.

“OH MY GOD THAT’S THE CUTEST THING EVER FUCKING STOP IT,” Mark yells, before shoving his face into Ben’s chest.

“Oh my god you are all the sappiest most disgusting people I know and I love all of you, _why do I love all of you,”_ Finny laments, facepalming and shaking his head fondly.

“I ask myself this question basically every day,” Jimmy adds, rolling his eyes and laughing adoringly.

“So Cooky, tell us what you’ve been up to, aside from the ahem, _gratuitous bedroom endeavours_ we know you’re enjoying,” Stu winks, clinking beer bottles with Steve as Ali chokes on his breath. Jos raises his hand in a sort of salute, and Joe is giggling away into his boyfriend’s neck. Ben coughs out a laugh, nodding his head looking incredibly impressed, as Eoin and Mark both grin evilly from their positions (Mark draped across Ben and Eoin’s laps, and the shorter ginger resting against Ben’s side, with his hand in Mark’s hair). Chris flushes a soft red, and Jonny tugs his boyfriend closer, while raising his own bottle. Jimmy has not moved, but is intently glaring at the computer screen, scrutinisingly studying their own video.

“What- what makes you say that Stu?”

 _“Oh fuck.”_ Jimmy breathes out, ducking his face into his hands and leaning down so that he’s no longer visible in the frame.

“Been in front of a mirror recently Ali?” You look like you’ve had a vampire go at you.” Finny helpfully supplies, before Alastair turns to glare at Jimmy.

“JAMES MICHAEL ANDERSON!”

“Christ Jimmy, _you did well,_ Ali almost looks as bad as Joe and Eoin did back in SA,” Jonny adds, looking genuinely impressed.

Jos grins, before also speaking up, “and almost as bad as you did after Chris heard your Barmy Army chant…”

“You were right, they’re all just as bad as you are,” Alastair laughs, before pulling Jimmy back up into the frame and kissing his cheek softly. “Besides the, erm, ‘gratuitous sex’ which apparently everyone knows about, we’ve done a few things. Mostly cooking, some exercise, we go walking around the farm some days, when Jimmy isn’t being grumpy-”

“HEY”

“Which is more often than not these days, maybe you won’t have too hard a time captaining him now Joey,” Ali grins, while Jimmy tucks his face into his love’s bicep, grumbling softly.

“No way Ali, he’s only less grumpy because you’re around. You’re gonna have to come and stay with us when cricket comes back, or I’m not gonna get anything out of him,” Joe smiles, scrunching his nose adorably, and Ali can’t even say anything when Jos leans over to peck it softly.

“It’s so nice to see all of you. I never knew how much I thought about all of you, til you weren’t here for me to tell you,” Jimmy speaks up, quietly baring his emotions.

Ali smiles proudly, and strokes his love’s hair softly. “Tell them, sweetheart, I promise it’ll be okay.”

Alastair sees Ben clutch at his chest, Mark turn his face into Ben’s abdomen, gripping at his shirt softly, and Eoin tighten his grip in Mark’s hair, resting more of his weight against Ben. He sees Joe shuffle further into Jos’ space, and watches Jos pick the younger boy up, and seat him on his lap. He notices Stu turn his face from the camera, and how Finny strokes a hand over the blonde bowler’s cheekbone. He watches Chris blink, and Ali can tell, even from over fucking _zoom,_ that his heart is open and exposed. He can see the movements of Jonny’s hand, stroking soothingly across Chris' back over the Brummie’s shirt, providing that extra bit of comfort and understanding.

“Well, there’s just been little moments, like, seeing all the photos you posted Ben, made me think about how much I miss cooking for you guys, when you all come over. How you, Mark and I always run the barbecue, and how Joey and Eoin steal our food. Said troublemakers giggle mischievously, and Jimmy looks at them adoringly.

“And Stu, your photos, god our sleepovers and team nights. You’re all terrible, and I remembered the time I woke up to permanent marker on my face, fuck you by the way Finny and Jonny, I know it was you two. But only because Joe and Jos had hickies _galore,_ and Mark and Eoin were basically incapacitated… which I assumed Ben was to blame for. And Chris is an angel, so..."

Steve’s eyes widen and he looks panickedly at the camera, “Jonny, pack your shit up, we’re moving to Ukraine,” which prompts a glare from a very angry boyfriend of Jonny Bairstow.

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!”

“Okay sweetheart, relax please, I’m not going anywhere,” the ginger keeper soothes, much to the amusement of everyone else.

“And then a few days ago we went out running, and Jos, it reminded me of our runs, nights before ODI’s when we couldn’t sleep, where we’d talk about Ali and Joey back when we were oblivious twats. Who knew they were doing the same thing at 6am.” The blonde wicketkeeper laughs, and wraps an arm around his boyfriend’s waist, nodding encouragingly at his fellow Lancashire teammate to continue, subtly brushing a hand under his eye.

“Ali made brownies the other day, and I almost broke down because that’s what I brought Jos after the whole Kieswetter thing.” Joe tenses visibly, and almost as if to break the tension, Ali drops a little word of his own.

“And then I had to remind Jimmy that had it not been for me, he would have run Kieswetter over with a car, and gone to jail for first-degree murder,” to which Alastair smiles with a glint in his eye, and high fives Jimmy. “But we came up with something better,” he adds, winking conspiratorially.

Everyone shares slightly terrifying and evil grins, except Jos who squints calculatingly. “I’ll fill you in later darling, I promise,” Joe smiles, kissing Jos’ cheek softly.

“I saw a headline about Faf and I remembered the test series, and how he was hurling insults at Stu, and how Finny called me that night, worrying about Stu, EVEN THOUGH HE COULD HAVE JUST CALLED STU, but no, let’s bother Jimmy why don't we."

Everyone laughs, because they all know, that _Jimmy_ was the one who called Steve, to check in on him and reassure him that his boyfriend was okay, and not injured.

“I also remember him telling me to thank Jos for standing in front of him and ‘exposing his wonderful chest to the ridiculous shoulder-barging. So, there you are Jos.”

Finny laughs as Stu turns to glare adoringly at him. Jos takes a breath, looking at Joe lovingly, before looking back at the screen, where most of the boys seem to be close to or already in tears.

“I just, yeah. Love you, and all that.”

“FUCK YOU JIMMY, WHAT THE FUCK, I’M SO FUCKING SAD,” Mark yells, muffled into Ben’s abs, and everyone bursts into wet laughter.

Everyone shares similar stories, one by one, and before they know it, it’s almost midnight. Joe is laying drowsily against Jos’ chest, the older boy pressing occasional kisses to his baby’s hair. Mark is playing with Eoin’s fingers, as they whisper about something to each other. Ben is babysitting his two beautiful boyfriends (what’s new?), carding his hands softly through their hair and over their cheeks and jawlines. Stu and Finny have both taken to cuddling on the couch, content to just be in everyone’s company. Chris has a hand fisted in Jonny’s shirt, and the ginger wicketkeeper is holding up his boyfriend’s weight, as he engages in some sort of eye conversation with Jos and Ben.

Jimmy and Ali, well, they’re trying not to cry. Ali is failing terribly, and Jimmy is only fairing a tiny bit better. For now.

“Hey, Jimmy?”

“Yeah Jos?”

“We have something for you.”

“What? What do you mean? Who’s we?”

“All of us. _Duh."_

"Ali, you know that cassette player I gave you, a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah Ben?”

“Can you go get it?”

“Of course,” Ali moves to get up, but, cannot. “Jim, sweetheart, you’re going to have to let go of me for a minute.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” Jimmy quickly releases his hold, as Ali runs off.

“Jimmy, check the vase outside your front door?” Jos and Jonny ask in sync, before laughing with each other softly, so as to not jostle their peaceful boyfriends. Said boyfriends do perk up a bit at hearing the words though…

The bowler looks sceptical, but after looking up at the two wicketkeepers, who have innocent wide eyes and proud smiles, he relents. He returns moments later with an unmarked cassette tape.

“You can do this Jimmy, we believe in you,” Jonny starts.

“And just remember, that we’re all really grateful for you and Ali,” Ben says, slightly choked, Mark and Eoin both nodding aggressively. 

“And that you both deserve to be happy.” Joe says, swallowing roughly. 

“And we hope that we do make you happy. And proud.” Jos finishes, before they all turn off their screens.

Jimmy must be making a very interesting facial expression, because when Ali walks back in, he almost falls over laughing. “What’s got you looking so confused?”

“I suppose we’ll have to find out?” He asks, more than answers, as he slides the cassette into the player.

 _To our dearest Jimmy and Ali._ Ben’s voice filters through the room.

 _The parents._ Comes a cheeky add-in from Mark, and Ali already knows there was a wink accompanying it.

 _This is our gift to you, we didn’t really know when to give it to you,_ Chris’ ramble begins, before he’s quickly cut off, Jimmy assumes by Jonny, from what sounds like a peck.

 _So we’re going to leave it outside your door til you find it, or until we can’t take it anymore._ Eoin. Cheeky troublemaker.

 _Which will probably be really soon, to be honest, you’re worse than Chris and I ever were._ Jimmy snorts because that’s definitely a lie. Chris and Jonny were a bloody headache.

 _Hopefully, it doesn’t need to come to this. But let’s be honest, it probably will._ Stu. God Jimmy misses his best friend.

 _Because fuck, you two are annoyingly saint-like and dutiful and responsible and all that shit. Not to mention, complete and utter wusses_. Finny. Fucking giraffe. Jimmy does not sob.

 _Honestly, we’ve been waiting for this since before some of us even debuted. Since we saw you both on TV and decided that you were the ones that we wanted to make proud._ Jossy. Okay fine. _Fine._ Maybe Jimmy sobs a little.

 _Jos my love, that’s sweet and all, but we’ve been waiting for this since before we were even fucking BORN._ Ali laughs at the sound of Joe’s voice, and the admonishing _Joeyyyy_ from Jos, only seconds later.

_What we’re trying to say is-_

_Fucking do it Jimmy, I swear to god, you know he won’t say no._

_Do it or there’ll be a hole in every single one of your socks before the next test._

_Joey! Darling stop with the threats!_

_Fiiiine._ Jimmy already knows that their puppy was pouting. 

_We love you!_

_Oh and by the way, they’re in your back pocket._

Ali, is now the one who looks confused. Jimmy hears the opening chords to Heaven, by Bryan fucking Adams, and he chokes on his own voice. _Fucking meddling kids. Fuck._

Taking courage from Jos, and Ben, and Jonny, and all of their family, he stands and offers Alastair his hand. The younger man accepts it, as Jimmy pulls them up softly into the centre of the living room. He gently takes Ali’s hands and wraps them over his own shoulders, before resting his hands on Alastair’s hips.

“James Anderson, are we dancing?”

“Shhh. Yes. Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

And Alastair stops talking. He does look up and smile though. And if Jimmy was having any second thoughts, they’ve all been thrown out the fucking window. Because how, how could he ever want anything that isn’t this. This is heaven. The way Ali’s hands flit softly over the upper muscles of his back. And how his eyes sparkle in the dim lights of the living room, not from the tears, no, but just because it’s _Ali._ The slow rhythmic way they always seem to be so in tune with each other, and how he’s the only person that James has ever been able to dance with.

_And baby, you're all that I want_

_When you're lyin' here in my arms_

_I'm findin' it hard to believe_

_We're in heaven_

_And love is all that I need  
And I found it there in your heart  
It isn't too hard to see  
We're in heaven, heaven, oooh_

“Alastair.” He’s leant in incredibly close, and they’re faces aren’t even inches apart, but the song is over and everything is quiet. He fishes into his back pocket, and there they are. They feel cool, with some sort of engraving on them. How their kids have managed to pull this off, he'll never know. He holds them delicately in a clasped fist behind his back. Ali does look up, and acknowledges him with his eyes. “Will you marry me?”

Ali doesn’t respond for a moment, but there’s a voice in Jimmy’s head that sounds remarkably like Swanny, that’s telling him not to be a fucking idiot. And he listens.

 _“God yes James. I’ve always been yours.”_ Ali holds up his left hand, and James slides the titanium band over the fourth finger, before Ali does the same with his.

_“Fuck.”_

“I love you.” They both say, at the exact same time (because when have they ever not been perfectly in sync?), before Ali pushes their mouths together.

“You’re really saying yes?”

“James Michael Anderson.” He taps his pointer finger at James’ heart. “Alastair Nathan Anderson.” He adds, pointing at his own, smiling in a way that he’s only ever managed to do for James.

_His fiancé._

Jimmy kisses him again, full of relief and happiness and almost, a tiny bit of disbelief. Ali only breaks the kiss to peck his cheek softly, before he has that sparkle in his eye again. “You wanna tell the kids?” Jimmy grins, before heading back to the laptop and starting up a new call. He almost dies laughing at the way everyone’s faces are pressed up to the camera, and how quickly they all pick up. Ali holds up his left hand, and everyone loses their fucking mind.

Joe’s crying, as is Jos, both of them in absolute hysterics.

Stu has buried his face in his hands and Steve has curled into a ball beside him, both of them sobbing.

Chris is holding onto his boyfriend for dear life, Jonny doing much the same, resting their heads together.

Ben’s eyes are glistening with tears, and Eoin and Mark have both taken to shoving their faces in the taller ginger’s shirt.

“Thank you,” Jimmy chokes out, and really, that’s all that's needed to be said before he and Ali are joining the tear-fest.

 _Meddling kids will always be meddling kids._ But Jimmy wouldn’t have them any other way.


	5. UberEats and Netflix (with some chill on the side)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so maybe, just maybe Chris has a problem.  
> But it's not his damn fault! Jonny is just too... likeable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for my gorgeous @Col_faridi  
> Featuring your favourite Jealous Hoe - Chris Woakes, along with some not-too-explicit-but-still-sort-of-because-they're-fluffballs-but-also-nasty smut ;) hope you enjoy it <3

“Babyyyyyy, how is our fridge so empty?! I thought Jossy and Joey sent us one of those ingredient boxes a few days ago…” Chris is currently rummaging haphazardly through the contents of their fridge, very unhappily.

“Chris, my love, what exactly do you think we used to make breakfast, lunch and dinner the last three days? We even sent pictures to Joey, remember darling?”

“Oh. Shit. Right.” Chris extracts his head from the refrigerator, and makes his way to the couch, flopping down next to his ginger wicketkeeper, pouting unhappily.

“You’re adorable sweetheart.” Jonny grins, pressing a chaste kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek. “Skip the whole making dinner thing will you?” Chris shakes his head, unpersuaded, trying to fight his way out of his boyfriend’s grip, back to the fridge. Jonny does not seem to like this very much. Not at all, in fact.

He wraps his fingers around both of Chris’ wrists, pressing them down into the sofa, as he straddles his boyfriend. He nips softly at the exposed collarbone, peeking out from above the collar of his shirt, before sucking at it harshly, worrying the flesh between his teeth. It works, remarkably well, since Chris is no longer trying to high-tail it back to the kitchen. Jonny grins happily, trailing across his boyfriend’s trapezius to mouth at his neck instead. He leans back, breathing softly against the now bruising skin, and lets a soft laugh escape when Chris whines unhappily.

“Stay. Let’s order UberEats instead.”

All unhappiness at the ceased kissing (see: biting) forgotten, Chris moans happily at the idea of food, immediately fishing for Jonny’s phone. “Oh my god _yes._ Idea of the century. Okay so, the options are; Thai, Indian, Mexican, Pizza, Italian and Japanese.”

Chris is busy looking through food options, completely enamoured with all of the choices and images of food to notice that his boyfriend hasn’t answered, and is staring at him very fondly. He looks up momentarily, feeling eyes boring into him from somewhere on the left.

“Jonny?”

“Yes sweetheart?”

“What do you feel like eating?”

“You?”

“Jonathan Marc Bairstow. I meant for dinner.” He’s blushing adorably, and Jonny is having an incredibly difficult time not throwing his boyfriend into the couch and making out with him.

“That doesn’t change my answer love… Not even in the slightest.”

Chris rolls his eyes lovingly, leaning over to softly kiss his boyfriend’s jaw. “Just pick something, will you? God, you’re doing my head in, why do I put up with you? Why?”

“Because you love me, duh.”

“Cheeky bastard.”

“A cheeky bastard who loves you too.”

 _Snarky bastard,_ Chris thinks, before suddenly he’s in said bastard’s lap, and has a tongue shoved into his mouth. It feels too good to argue about, so he wraps his arms over his wicketkeeper’s neck, and tilts his head to kiss him deeper. When they break apart for oxygen (a requirement, believe it or not), Jonny stands up, deposits Chris on the sofa, says “Italian,” and then walks into the kitchen.

Chris blinks, taken aback, and completely disorientated. “What?”

“Food sweetheart. Italian. You should order, and I’ll make drinks?”

“I _cannot_ believe you.”

Jonny only grins and starts pulling out bottles of tequila and lime juice, accompanied by fresh limes and ice. “Margaritas sound good?”

For the second time tonight, Chris forgives his _terrible_ boyfriend for his unacceptable teasing. “Absolutely fuck yes, especially with Italian.” 

“I’m missing something though… I can’t remember the second alcohol that Jos always says to add. Fuck. Text him for me?”

“Sure sweetheart. Am I just ordering our usual? Bruschetta, fettucine carbonara-”

“Lasagne and passionfruit panna cotta. Yep, exactly.”

“Ugh, we are so good together. Okay what exactly am I texting Jos?”

“Ask him what the supplementary alcohol is in his Margarita please, thank you angel.”

**19:31 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_Jossyyyy_

_Jonny is asking if you could please tell him 'the supplementary alcohol you use in your Margaritas please'_

**19:32 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_Main one is tequila_

_And then orange liqueur or triple sec_

“BAAAAAABE!”

 _“Christ_ , sweetheart you nearly gave me a heart attack, maybe hearing loss, I’m standing right here,” Jonny has reflexively covered his ears with his hands, and Chris is resisting the urge to laugh. Only barely.

“Jossy says triple sec.”

“Fuck, _of course._ Ugh. Thank you.” Jonny kisses his boyfriend’s forehead quickly (they do _not_ end up kissing softly in the dim lighting right outside the kitchen for an entire five minutes- no they do not), before dashing back to his bartending. Chris goes to type out a thank you, before realising that there are already three hundred thousand messages he’s missed.

**19:33 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_OOooooooOOoOOOOo what do you need Jossy’s margarita recipe for?_

**19:34 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Oh my god they’re doing body shots_

**19:34 Eoin to ODI Idiots**

_Oh my god they’re gonna fuck_

**19:34 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_STUART._

**19:34 Ben to ODI Idiots**

_EOIN._

**19:35 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_WHAT._

_You know I’m right ;)_

**19:35 Eoin to ODI Idiots**

_What Stu said ;))_

**19:35 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_Why else would they need Jossy’s recipe specifically?_

_Everyone knows Jos’ drinks have certain effects ;)))_

**19:35 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_Mark, Eoin and Ben especially_

**19:35 Mark to ODI Idiots**

_MOM, YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T BRING THAT UP!_

**19:35 Eoin to ODI Idiots**

_MOM NO_

**19:35 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_MOMMMMMM! THAT’S NOT FAIR_

_YOU CAN’T BLAME THE RECIPE_

_THOSE THREE ARE JUST HORNY ALL THE TIME_

**19:35 Jimmy to ODI Idiots**

_Ali… he’s got a point_

_Those three need serious help._

**19:36 Mark to ODI Idiots**

_I have never felt more attacked than I do right at this moment._

**19:36 Ben to ODI Idiots**

_As if you can deny it Mark._

_It takes one word_

_And you’re on your knees._

_Don’t try me sweetheart._

**19:36 Mark to ODI Idiots**

_Sorry sir ;)_

**19:36 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_STOP IT_

_MOM MAKE THEM STOP._

_PLEASE_

**19:36 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_Ben…_

**19:36 Ben to ODI Idiots**

_Don’t worry mom I’ll handle it <3 _

**19:37 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_Jossy. Is this why you refuse to make me alcoholic drinks at home? >:(_

**19:37 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_Joey :( my baby angel please don’t be mad at me :(_

_You’re just not very apt at holding your liquor sweetheart._

_You know I just want you to be safe angel <3 _

_I will make you whatever you like my darling, but I’ll put in less alcohol for you <3 _

**19:37 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_Oh._

_Aw :’)_

_I love you Jossy_

**19:37 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_I love you too baby_

_So fucking much_

_Come back to cuddle please?_

_I miss you._

**19:37 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_M’coming sweetheart <3 _

_Miss you too_

**19:37 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_YOU’RE IN THE SAME HOUSE WHAT THE FUCK_

_SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THEM THEY’RE IN THE SAME HOUSE_

_DAD PLEASE MAKE IT STOP_

_THEY’RE SO GROSS_

Chris blinks at the chat in utter disbelief, and with a lot of fondness.

**19:38 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_I leave my phone alone for five minutes._

_FIVE_

_Also why do all of you consistently only think about sex_

_Gosh._

_Joe and Jos are the only pure ones in this chat_

_Jonny and I are ordering Italian in tonight, so he’s making Margaritas while I set up the Netflix_

_Thank you Jossy, for the recipe <3 _

**19:40 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_Anytime <3 _

_Tell Jonny he’s welcome, and that Joey and I miss you guys <3 _

_Also Chris… were you there in SA?_

**19:41 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_Fuck._

_You’re right._

_You’re all terrible kinky bastards_

_I love you all so much <3_

Chris has been so immersed in his text conversation, and simultaneously trying to mentally pick something on Netflix, that he’s completely blocked out the sound of the doorbell, which is now being rung for the third time.

“Coming!” Jonny yells, running at the door, one hand still covered in remnants of freshly squeezed lime juice.

Chris makes a guilty expression and chucks his phone somewhere into the couch, before jogging up behind his boyfriend. He stops in his tracks immediately, ducking into one of the doorways.

Because at the door, is a very beautiful woman, making googly eyes at his boyfriend. Not just googly eyes, but _flirty_ googly eyes. Chris absolutely does not eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Is this all you’re eating tonight?”

“Uh well-”

“Because I would be more than happy to supply you with something more, if you’re hungry for it,” she croons, and Chris nearly gags at the line. And then at the fact that someone else is flirting with Jonny.

“Actually, I’m having dinner with my partner-”

“Oooh you’ve got a girlfriend hey? I’m sure you could do better, if I were her, I wouldn’t let you answer the door looking like that, the offer still stands, I can keep quiet.” Chris watches from the doorway of the study (okay, maybe he was eavesdropping a little), and has to physically hold himself back, because the woman’s eyes are glazing down Jonny’s chest, and over his abdomen, and his thighs, and Chris is definitely going to throw hands if she doesn’t leave in the next nanosecond he _swears it._

“Swing for the other team, and you’re not my type. Thank you.” Jonny shuts the door immediately, and Chris absolutely does not take any delight in the flabbergasted, slightly disgusted and completely outraged expression on her face as the door slams in her face. However, the way she was performing apodyopsis on _his_ fucking boyfriend, is not leaving his head. She looked at him like she was going to eat him. 

Something flares in him, and he feels the tendons in his hand go rigid with it. Within seconds, he’s taken the food from Jonny’s hand, disposed it on the foyer table, and shoved his boyfriend into the door roughly.

“Ch- Chris sweetheart, you might need to- _oh fuck okay, okay,”_ Jonny pants out, his boyfriend mercilessly lavishing him with biting kisses all over his shoulders. He reaches out with his hands to ground himself, gripping tightly at Chris’ biceps, fisting hands in the material of his shirt, already struggling to hold his weight up.

The young bowler does calm his assault, releasing the iron grip that’s been holding his boyfriend to the wall for the past minute and a half. He’s still very much held there, but Chris is no longer going at his boyfriend’s neck as a vampire would.

“Chris darling…”

“Erm, yes?”

“Do you maybe want to tell me what that was about?”

“Not really.”

“Baby…” Jonny tries searching his boyfriend’s eyes for some sort of answer, but Chris scrunches his nose distastefully and looks away, mumbling something softly. “Can’t hear you my love, try again.”

“I didn’t like the way she looked at you.”

“What. Who? Love, we haven’t exactly been in contact with anyone for weeks now?” The wicketkeeper’s confusion is clearly not helping the situation in the slightest. Chris lets out a frustrated groan and pushes Jonny back against the door again, mouthing desperately at the pale flesh over his collarbone, before tonguing across to the other and administering the same treatment. Jonny very nearly slips down the fucking door. _"Christ, okay love, go ahead, I’m all yours.”_

Jonny seems to realise that he’s not going to get anything out of his darling- until said darling is appeased and has completed whatever mission he’s set himself. He tilts his head back softly, giving Chris a little more space to work with (see: to bite the living fuck out of), and takes it as an absolute win, when his boyfriend whimpers softly and tucks his face against the flesh, canines scraping against it salaciously.

_“Mine.”_

“Oh my god,” realisation suddenly flickers through Jonny’s eyes. “You meant the UberEats lady. You were eavesdropping on me!”

“SHE WAS MAKING ALL SORTS OF EYES AT YOU. AND GOD EVERYTHING SHE SAID WAS SO GROSS!” Chris dry heaves (very exaggeratedly) before continuing his yelling. “HOW DARE SHE TELL YOU TO _EAT HER._ GOD THE NERVE, THE _AUDACITY_ TO SUGGEST-”

Jonny grabs hold of the front of Chris’ shirt, and pulls him closer, until they’re nose to nose. Chris promptly shuts up, breath hitching at the closeness. Jonny looks so beautiful all the time, but right now it’s sort of taking his breath away. It’s the little things really, like the flourish of his eyelashes, and the speckles dotting his cheeks, just visible over the sharpness of his cheekbone before they disappear under a soft beard that the wicketkeeper has let grow during the past few weeks.

“It doesn’t matter what she said. You asked what I wanted for dinner, and you heard my answer.”

“Italian? Yeah, I heard it.”

“No sweetheart.” Jonny’s fingers flitter unnoticed up under Chris’ shirt, blunt nails raking softly at the toned abdomen he finds. Chris groans softly, ducking his head down to rest on his wicketkeeper’s shoulder. “My first answer was you. What do you say, baby? Can I have you?”

“God, you can have me whenever the fuck you want,” is what is whined against his neck, Chris trying to hide himself in the comfort of his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Hmmm, lucky me,” Jonny laughs, before tearing Chris’ shirt off, right there in the middle of their foyer. “Definitely lucky me.” His eyes flash and Chris internally fans himself at the sight. Jonny lets out a soft sigh, eyes flickering up to meet a very familiar, very pretty set of lips, plush and wet and just a little parted. He brushes the bottom lip with his finger and grins smugly when Chris’ mouth falls open, tongue poking softly at the tip of his digit.

And suddenly it’s too much and he can’t take it anymore. He grips softly under Chris’ chin, thumb still resting on his lower lip, before leaning in to kiss him properly, hard and devouring. The air around them inflames immediately. Chris moans, and it’s quite possibly the best thing that Jonny has ever heard in his entire fucking life.

“Bed sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah. Yes. Now.”

Jonny leans forward, as though he is going to press another kiss to Chris’ mouth, which drops open slightly in anticipation. But the wicketkeepers only flicks his tongue against the bitten red bottom lip, and breath fanning against it softly as he whispers “get your ass in bed then, clothes off by the time I get there, my love, I can’t wait to get my hands on you, my _mouth_ on you.”

The way Chris scrambles into the bedroom almost makes Jonny laugh in fondness. But there are more important things to do right now, like fuck his boyfriend into the mattress. So he tears off his own shirt and sprints into the bedroom, crawling up over his boyfriend’s body, and pressing their hips together. The way Chris gasps, might honestly give his moans a run for their money. It’s one of the most wonderful sounds to hear, especially when it’s like this, unguarded, a little desperate, but _a lot_ pleading.

Chris grinds his body up fluidly, and when their hips catch together roughly, he releases choked breaths, face flushing the prettiest red, Jonny _has_ to oblige the request for _more._ He rocks against him slowly, until the soft needy whimpers become loud and mindless begging.

“Jonny please, _fuck-_ why are you so _oh my dear god please-”_

“That’s it darling let me hear you. Sound so gorgeous sweetheart, moaning my name like that, letting everyone know who you belong to. Fuck you look gorgeous; I want to bite you _everywhere._ ”

“What the fuck are you waiting for then? Prove you're mine.” Chris chokes out, tipping his head back in invitation.

Jonny ducks his head to Chris’ neck, punctuating his talk with a sharp bite at the exposed flesh just under his jaw. He drops a hand to Chris’ thigh, muscled and perfect under his fingers, and hooks it over his hip. He digs his nails into the flesh momentarily, relishing in the groan he gets, and watches in pride as Chris’ eyes roll back.

“Can I fuck you gorgeous?” Jonny grazes his teeth along the shell of Chris’ ear and down the sharp cut of his jaw, nosing at the flesh of his neck before sinking his teeth into the dip just between his collarbones. “Fuck you taste so good. Better than anything anyone could offer.”

“You can do whatever the fuck you want to do to me,” Chris grits out, twisting his hips to get some sort of friction, because Jonny has stopped moving, and is being a fucking tease.

“All you have to do is tell me what you want darling. Tell me just how you want it. I love to see the way you look after I’m done with you, sprawled out and well fucked and exhausted and beautiful. Come on sweetheart, tell me.” Jonny kisses his way back up the centre of Chris’ throat, light and soft, no hint of teeth, but Chris just wants to be _bitten. Eaten alive._

“Fuck. Jesus fucking Christ,” Chris hisses, digging his nails into the muscle of his wicketkeeper’s back and clawing involuntarily.

“I need words gorgeous. I need to know what you want.”

“Everything, I want everything. Want you to bite me, bite me all over. Want you to put your fingers in me and fuck me. _Me only.”_

Chris’ admission is unbelievably hot, and Jonny groans low in his throat, leaning down and breathing softly over the bruises littered over his love’s neck. When Jonny pulls away to gaze over his boyfriend, he’s met with a sight. There are splotches of rouge dusted over the apples of his cheeks, but also trailing down the side of his neck and heating up the skin of his abs and sternum. The wicketkeeper sits back, straddling his boyfriend’s thighs, admiring the view. “I could spend hours biting at you. Hours. You always flush so pretty under my mouth. _You’re always so pretty.”_

“Not today,” gasps Chris. “You’re terrible-” 

Jonny kisses him again, and it feels so good. Kissing Jonny always feels incredible, but this is like being devoured. Every move is sure and strong and possessive and the heat of his mouth and the way his tongue feels, stroking across his own in a slow and lazy fashion, would be enough to make anyone weak in the knees.

He mimics the rhythm of his tongue with his fingers, already slick, pushing against him, and Chris makes a high keening sound, as he opens to the intrusion. It’s enough to have Jonny needing to gasp for air. He presses his lips to Chris’ neck, mouthing softly at the base of his throat, chasing the pink flush that’s always persistent on his love’s skin. He fits another finger inside, crooking his fingers up just as he bites down, and Chris jerks his head back, crying out softly. “Please, that’s enough, just have me, _please.”_ Chris squirms, bending and contorting under Jonny, gripping at the wicketkeeper’s hips. His head tips back involuntarily to expose his throat, and even though it already looks utterly _mauled,_ he bites, open-mouthed, sucking harshly at the skin. He holds Chris’ hands down beside his head, intertwining their fingers as he pushes inside him slowly.

“Oh, fuck,” Chris gasps, biting at his bottom lip in an effort to keep quiet. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s one hell of a feeling. Jonny always feels so fucking good inside him, like they were made to fit together like this, and the thought only makes Chris want it more. Because the fact that no one else gets to have Jonny like this, gets to see him smirk like this, see his eyes roll back like this, see the light sheen of sweat that coats his body like this. This is what Chris lives for. His hands find their way back into Jonny’s hair, tugging harshly.

“You feel so fucking good sweetheart. Nothing ever feels as good as you,” Jonny praises, and Chris grapples at the muscles of his back desperately, mouth dropping open in a silent scream. Chris’ abdomen and chest are littered with marks, as are Jonny’s neck and chest. Beads of sweat drip tantalisingly across the brunette’s collarbones, dampening the skin, adding a salty tinge that only ever tastes good on Chris. Jonny presses his thumbs into Chris’ hips, hard enough to feel but not hard enough to bruise, and the older man almost complains, but just at that moment, Jonny fucks into him _deep,_ and anything he was going to say is scuffed into a moan.

Chris arches his back almost painfully, trying to get Jonny to fuck him harder, faster, anything. The curve of his spine lifts tantalisingly off the mattress, shoulders pressing back into the bed.

“You’re flushed all over. So much beautiful fucking muscle. I want my teeth in it, angel.”

Chris’ body is shivering, twitching and clenching, and he’s becoming less and less reserved. Broken gasps of Jonny’s name, accompanied by soft pleas and cries flood the air, and it feels like a live wire. He knows his boyfriend is close. They may not have been fucking for long, but from the first time, Jonny’s brain has it memorised. The way Chris’ abs clench, and how he arches deeper, tries to fuck his hips back against Jonny’s, how his moans become shivery, dripping with desire. _Christ, he’s so gorgeous._ Jonny also knows exactly what to say, to have his boyfriend tip over the edge. 

“When that lady said what she did, all I could think about was how I sink my teeth into the muscle of your shoulders. And how I like to bite at your abs. Flick my tongue at your neck. She couldn’t be more wrong. I could never do better than you, god look at you, you’re a blessing. _All mine.”_

And that does it for him. Chris comes, overwhelmed by it, tightening up around Jonny with a sharp cry. Jonny watches the muscles of his abdomen clench, the stutter of his hips. His face blushed and damp and contorted with pleasure. The sounds he’s making, high and needy and needy, and so fucking loud. God, he’s blushing everywhere.

And Jonny, god help him, is unable to resist any longer. Chris always drives him fucking insane. He presses Chris hips into the mattress and slams into him, his boyfriend’s body shifting up against the bed with the force of his thrusts. He buries his face in Chris’ neck, biting harshly at the last sliver of unmarked skin, as the pleasure catches up with him, hitting him hard. A satisfaction settles in his gut, as Chris smiles up at him dreamily. “You mean it?”

“I love you. You absolute dork.”

Chris grins, rolling his eyes and running a hand through his messed up hair. “I love you too. But, I think you’ve forgotten something…”

“Oh? And what would that be?"

"You said you wanted to _eat me._ I think we should get to that, don’t you?”

“Oh absolutely…”

-

It’s been about three hours since Chris and Jonny had UberEats delivered to their house, and Chris is completely and utterly speechless. But honestly, he can’t really be blamed, Jos would attest, because Yorkshire boys have some _skills._ He’s been told to stay put in bed by his overprotective boyfriend (that's his excuse but, he can’t actually _walk,_ his thighs are numb), who is currently heating up their dinner. While waiting, Chris leans over to grab his phone, before bursting into unrestrained cackling at the most recent message that shows up; YOU FUCKERS, from none other than James Anderson. Clearly, they’ve been gone a while.

**20:02 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_How are the margaritas Woaksey?_

**20:23 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Chris? Jonny?_

**21:56 Ben to ODI Idiots**

_Do you think we need to send out a search party?_

**22:35 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_Chris Woakes if you do not answer this chat right now, I am going to send the RAF to your house_

**22:43 Jimmy to ODI Idiots**

_Ali darling, please, come back to bed, they’re fine I promise_

_Stop pacing and come back here Alastair._

**22:44 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_Coming, dear fiancé of mine_

**22:49 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_DO YOU THINK THEY DIED?!_

_I'm so worried :(_

**22:49 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_BABY NO_

_Sweetheart :( I'm sure they're okay_

_Come here <3 I'll cuddle you _

**22:49 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_Coming :( love you <3 _

**22:50 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Joey you’re so cute_

_Jos you're such a good boyfriend_

_Don't worry Joey._

_They’re probably fucking_

**22:50 Ben to ODI Idiots**

_Exactly what I was going to say._

**22:51 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_Oops._

_Maybe you have a point, Stu._

_And yes Jossy is the best boyfriend <3 _

**22:52 Jimmy to ODI Idiots**

_They must be busy, you boys jump to conclusions too fast_

**22:53 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_SORRY DAD_

_I have to not yell because Finny is asleep <3 _

_Sorry dad <3 _

**22:54 Mark to ODI Idiots**

_BUT THEY HAVEN’T ANSWERED FOR HOURS_

**22:54 Eoin to ODI Idiots**

_THAT’S TRUE, AND WE ALL KNOW WHAT THAT USUALLY MEANS_

**22:54 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_HOURS OF RIDICULOUSLY HOT SEX_

_Fuck_

_Hours of ridiculously hot sex****_

**22:54 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_Stu…_

_Might I remind you that this is a text chat?_

**22:54 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_You might._

_What do you think the excuse was this time then?_

**22:56 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_The last time Jos and I went at it like this_

_Well. Let’s just say._

_Someone who was NOT Jos, decided to tell me I had a nice ass…_

**22:57 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_He was a creepy asshole_

_And you’re mine._

**22:57 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Jealous Blushy strikes again_

_Don’t worry Jos I’m pretty sure everyone in Manchester knows Joey is yours._

**22:58 Ben to ODI Idiots**

_Try everyone in England._

_I never picked Chris to be the jealous type…_

_But then again, Jos exists, so like…_

_I suppose it should not have surprised me_

**22:58 Eoin to ODI Idiots**

_Benny, not everyone comes across all ‘hot dominant’ like you do_

**22:58 Mark to ODI Idiots**

_Gotta watch out for the quiet ones…_

_i.e. Joseph Charles Buttler and Christopher Roger Woakes_

**22:59 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Back to the point, yes, Chris was probably definitely jealous, especially if they’ve been going at it for…_

_Three fucking hours_

**23:03 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_JEALOUS OF WHO, THEY HAVEN’T FUCKING GONE ANYWHERE._

_ALL THEY’RE DOING IS WATCHING STAR WARS_

**23:03 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Tbh, Poe Dameron is a work of art... Maybe him?_

**23:03 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_THAT JEALOUSY IS COMPLETELY VALID. HE LOOKS LIKE COOKY_

_Only Cooky is hotter than Poe Dameron ;)_

_Not hotter than Joey (sorry mom), because Joey is Joey_

_BUT. HOT NONETHELESS._

**23:03 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_I ABSOLUTELY AGREE. BUT ALI IS MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN ME_

_Not more beautiful than Jossy, because, he’s Jos… and because Jos’ thighs…_

_BUT YES. TOTALLY WOULD TAP THAT._

**23:04 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Honestly, mom is so beautiful_

_Giraffe. Maybe you have some competition_

**23:07 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_STU ARE YOU TRYING TO GET YOURSELF KILLED_

_OH I MEAN_

_Yes you’re absolutely right, competition indeed_

_Cooky’s thighs am I right?_

**23:10 Jimmy to ODI Idiots**

_Alastair darling… Bedroom now._

_The rest of you are all grounded._

**23:11 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_THANK YOU, KIDS ;)_

_I UNGROUND ALL OF YOU_

**23:12 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_Anytime mom ;)_

**23:13 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_Exactly what Jossy said <3 have fun ;)_

**23:14 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_Always ;)_

**23:15 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_You got it mom ;)_

**23:16 Jimmy to ODI Idiots**

_YOU FUCKERS._

Chris laughs so hard he nearly falls out of bed.

**23:20 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_Aw Joey sweetheart, we’re fine I promise_

_We just decided to have a quiet dinner, so we turned our phones off._

**23:21 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_Can it Woakes._

_I just got a very smug text from my fellow Yorkie_

**23:21 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_Well done Jonny ;)_

**23:22 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_Damn you both_

Chris can hear Jonny laughing from the kitchen, and he settles into the quilt with a disgustingly fond smile on his face.

**23:23 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_You love us_

**23:23 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_And we love you too <3 _

**23:24 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_Where are the rest of the idiots?_

_Actually nevermind, I think I know._

_Goodnight guys, we’re going to actually get around to eating now…_

_Well, I am. Jonny already ate ;)_

**23:25 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_WELL DONE JONNY ;)_

**23:25 Joe to ODI Idiots**

_Goodnight <3 _


	6. Rain Soaked Kisses and Bubble Baths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Jos  
> The grossest, sappiest, most in-love couple you will ever meet in your entire lives. Ever.  
> God, they're so gross  
> I love them so much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for the loves of my life, @Cricket_crazy28 (my wife) and @Rosetylars  
> It's disgusting, sappy, gross, and might make you cry a little bit.  
> I love you both so much <3 thank you for always being here, commenting and supporting <3 I hope this makes you smile.

They’re sitting (actually it’s more like Joe is lying on top of Jos), on the couch, when the first drops hit the window. While normally, this would be a curse, today, the sky is all shades of orange and navy, _abendrot._ That weird hour between sunset and twilight that renders everything scarily beautiful and the silver strokes of rain are only making it more alluring.

“Babe! Jossy look! It’s raining! Josssyyyyyyy!”

“Yes darling, I can see that,” Jos grins, pecking the younger’s forehead softly, and gets a playful smile in return. Joe slowly gets off him, and tugs at his hand til he follows. The smaller blonde opens the balcony door with a squeal, running excitedly into the centre of the balcony and throwing his hands out, letting the rain hit his face.

He’s entranced for a few minutes, and it might be the first time in his life when he’s gone outside on an evening in Manchester and seen the rain and thought, _yes, yes please._ It’s not pouring, but it’s more than a drizzle, and very quickly his clothes are wet and plastered to his body in a way that should be incredibly uncomfortable, but in all honesty, he can’t be bothered by it. Because the sky looks ten shades of stunning, and all Joe wants in this precise moment, is to make out with his boyfriend in the rain like it’s _The_ Fucking _Notebook._

Speaking of said boyfriend, Jos is still standing inside the living room, resting his weight against the frame of the open sliding glass door, watching his boyfriend and looking very in-love. He sees Joe advancing toward him with a cheeky grin, and he very quickly throws his phone into the couch, already aware of what’s about to happen. It takes Joe exactly 0.02 seconds, to tug him onto the balcony, into the rain. Jos shrieks momentarily, before bursting into laughter, picking up his boyfriend and spinning them around, prompting a yelp from the younger as well. Joe wraps his arms over Jos’ neck and throws his head back, laughing and smiling dazedly. 

As the wicketkeeper puts Joe down back on his feet, the younger’s body brushes against his own, and it's all types of perfection. He pulls Joe closer to his chest, tightening his arms around him, and he really can’t help himself. He knows they’re on ~~his~~ _their_ balcony, and completely exposed to everyone who may be watching the Manchester rain at its most beautiful… but he really, _really_ can’t help himself. He dips his head down softly, and captures Joe’s lips in a loving kiss. Joe’s hands fist into his shirt, and the younger opens his mouth slightly, prompting Jos to press his tongue into his boyfriend’s mouth.

“Fuck. Again. _Please, again.”_ Far be it from Jos to refuse the love of his life, especially when he asks like that. He lets one of his hands flutter up to Joe’s throat, as he braces the side of his neck possessively. The smaller blonde’s responding cry makes the kiss that much heavier. Joe’s hands clench desperately at the back of Jos’ drenched shirt, pulling their bodies even closer.

The smaller blonde feels Jos’ hands come up to his face, holding him gently. Strong hands that are just large enough that they can comfortably cover his cheeks, thumbs stroking his cheekbones, while his pinkie-fingers caress the underside of his jaw. Jos’ hands always make him feel so _safe._ Joe’s speechless.

The wicketkeeper is also having trouble speaking. He’s having trouble even functioning normally, actually. Because Joe looks like something straight out of heaven. Angelic isn’t enough to describe it. He _always_ looks angelic. But right now, he just looks ethereal.

The lights from the street and from the last remnants of the sun are casting a halo over his hair, which is soaked wet and sticking up in all directions, in a sort of ordered mess. His eyes are already so bright when they aren’t reflecting the lights, but right now they are doing precisely that, and coupled with the rain, they look more innocent, more _doe-like,_ exuding pure azure beauty. His lips are wet from the rain, but also slightly swollen from their earlier endeavour, and Jos just wants to kiss his boyfriend so fucking bad. But as mentioned earlier, he’s a little bit broken. “God sweetheart, you’re so unbelievably gorgeous. Ethereal darling. _Angelic.”_

“Noooo Jossy m’not an angel stooooop,” Joe is blushing, trying to hide his face but he _can’t_ because Jos is still holding it between his hands like it’s his world. And Jos can only just make out the faint tinge of red creeping its way up Joe’s neck but _god_ does it make him look even more beautiful.

“You are, baby. You’re a real-life angel. I can’t believe you’re here with me. Can’t believe you’re mine.”

 _“S’just you and me, til we’re grey and old,”_ Joe mumbles softly, ducking his head down. Jos tucks a finger under his chin, to make Joe look at him once again. The younger smiles shyly at his boyfriend, and it’s really not helping the situation at all.

 _“Fuck. Come here.”_ Jos tugs his boyfriend closer by his shirt, kissing him harder, gripping at him with everything he has, because even if the rest of the world is taken from him, as long as Joe is here in his arms, at his reach, for him to kiss and love and hold, he’ll survive.

“M’right here Jossy. Promise. Not going anywhere, ever. I love you so much,” Joe gasps out, bunching the material of Jos’ shirt in his hand, and whining into his boyfriend’s mouth, as Jos’ tongue presses against his.

Joe has no idea how long they spend like that, intertwined at the hands and at the tongue, bodies pressed up close enough to overrun the cold of the rain. Making out under the Manchester sky where the heavens have opened once again. They come apart, (if you can call moving two millimetres away from each other ‘coming apart’) and resume their declarations of love through staring at each other.

Jos briefly remembers Stu’s text to him a few days ago, where he'd written ‘I get it now. You and Rooty. You guys and your eye-conversations. I know what you mean.’ Jos almost had to call Jonny because of the emotional overload. He had ended up going for a run, and ended up remembering Jimmy once again. Emotional overload part two- of that day alone. _He did end up calling Jonny... God bless wicketkeeper's union._

Joe briefly remembers the last time they were standing like this in the rain, back when they were running off the field because it started pouring in the middle of their match with New Zealand. Joe also remembers the way Jos was drawn to the water, letting it soak through his skin, while he played tag with Eoin, Mark and Ben, chasing each other around like children, laughter reverberating off the walls of the buildings around them. Truth be told, Joe only knows this because he can never take _his_ eyes off the wicketkeeper. Jos always looks so beautiful in the rain.

He looks even more beautiful right now, and Joe feels the need to tell him just that. The rain droplets look so tantalising against his skin, soaking through his white shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. Soft tendrils, usually fluffy and light, now a few shades darker, tousled and tugged back, tracks of Joe’s fingers visible through the strands.

Jos’ eyes will always be one of Joe’s favourite things in the world. If someone asked him to recognise an image of Jos’ eyes out of a million samples, he’d be able to do it in seconds. He probably wouldn’t even need to see the entire photo. He’s drawn to them in a way he can’t explain. The hue, the vibrance, the charm. They’re bewitching, and the first thing that Joe fell in love with. In the rain, they’re even more enchanting. Entrancing. _Enrapturing._

“Jossy?”

“Yeah, angel?” Jos will never get over the way Joe ducks his head, every time he calls him that.

“You’re beautiful.”

Jos smiles, and Joe has to kiss him again. It’s the law.

“Thank you, my love, I’m glad you think so. Now, I know you’re cold, I can feel your shivers coming on. D’you want me to run you a bath, sunshine?”

The way Joe’s eyes light up is answer enough. Jos smiles adoringly, and without so much as a word, lifts his love up, and tucks an arm under his knees in a bit of a bridal-carry, walking them into the bathroom. 

Jos turns the water on, making sure it’s only a degree or two below scalding, before turning back to his boyfriend. Despite the fact that they’re both utterly soaking wet, Jos gently wraps his arms around Joe’s waist, and presses a soft, still gentle, rain-wet kiss to his lips. Joe’s hands make their way into his hair, entangling into the damp blonde strands and tugging softly, as the younger boy whimpers softly into his mouth.

Jos will never, never in his life understand, how Joe always tastes so _good._ He always tastes like strawberries, blackberries and raspberries, and something that’s just definitively _Joe_ but today there’s an added touch of fresh earthiness, a sort of lingering flavour from the rain, and it’s driving him insane. And even though they’ve been making out in the rain for longer than they should have, Jos will never get enough of it. He pulls away from Joe’s mouth, relishing in the soft moan he receives, as he lets his teeth catch lightly at his boyfriend’s lower lip.

“You’re so _pretty_ baby.”

“Jossy noooo-” Joe never takes kindly to these sorts of admissions, not even if he’s been told three times in the past few hours. Especially not then, actually. He blushes in the most beautiful way, dusty pink high on his cheekbones, and stuffs his face into the nearest place that will hide it. Currently, since they’re standing not even an inch apart, in the bathroom, the closest thing that Joe can tuck his face away into, is Jos’ chest.

“But you are.” Jos places his hands on either side of Joe’s face, pulling him away softly so that he can look into his eyes once again.

“Jossy stoooop.” His voice has taken on that slightly childish tone, as it always does when Jos compliments him. He tries hiding again, this time burrowing further, resting against the left side of Jos’ chest, seeking out his heartbeat.

And Jos is one hundred percent sure, that Joe can hear the way his heart is hammering away in his chest, bursting at the seams with just how much he fucking loves the bundle in his arms right now.

“God no. _Never._ I will never ever stop telling you how beautiful you are. Especially not when you look like this, in my arms.”

“When I look like what?” Joe sounds genuinely confused, and when he looks up, doe-eyed and beautiful and _fuck Jos is going to have a fucking heart attack because this is not fucking allowed._

“When you look like this,” Jos says, very unhelpfully, pulling them both to the mirror in front of their dual sink counter (because of course, of course, ~~Jos’~~ _their_ bathroom has two sinks, both right next to each other, with a toothbrush holder right in the centre, for both of their brushes. Also, if Jos hears anyone calling this house ‘his’ and not ‘theirs’ he will gut them like a codfish.)

“I don’ see it Jossy. Wha’ ‘re you talking abou’?”

“You.” Jos leans down to nip softly at Joe’s neck, smiling as Joe tilts his head in submission, involuntarily asking for more. “Later, I promise.” Joe whimpers again and Jos is seriously struggling to keep himself from shoving his boyfriend into the mattress and making him understand how beautiful he is. “You’re always beautiful. But right now. Your hair is wet, and your lips are kiss-bitten, and you’re holding onto me so tightly and your eyes are so innocent, and all I want to do is kiss you. Forever. For the rest of my life.”

Joe whines, high in his throat, and turns around, pressing their lips together slowly. “I want to kiss you forever too. Only you. Til the end of time.” 

They spend a few moments in each other's arms, trading soft kisses and whispering disgustingly sweet nothings. 

“But as much as I love you and don’t want to let you out of my arms, you’re freezing, and I don’t want you to get sick because then you’ll be grumpy, and I don’t want you to be unwell. So, get in the bath.” Jos starts rummaging through their cabinets, looking for the stash of bath-bombs he keeps for Joe. “Do you want a strawberry bath bomb, my angel?”

“Wait. But. But-” Joe is pouting softly, but his eyes are wide and Jos wants to squish him against his chest and protect him and never let him go ever again.

“Angel? Baby, what is it?”

“You’re not staying?”

“I figured maybe you would rather-”

“No. Don’t. Don’t go. Stay with me? Please? I don’t want you to go.” The hopefulness of the question, and the unguarded way Joe looks at him, basically means all his self-restraint is lost to the wind.

“Okay, darling. If that’s what you want.” He places his hands carefully against Joe’s hips and tugs the soaking material off his lithe frame. Goosebumps surface on the younger boy’s skin as Jos’ fingertips graze up his sides, and Joe briefly wonders how the hell Jos’ hands are still so warm.

“And. Uhm. Can we please have the one with rose petals instead?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Anything you want. _Everything you want.”_

Jos then strips off his own shirt, and Joe lets out a tiny squeak at seeing his boyfriend’s bare chest. Not that his shirt was doing much (god bless white shirts and god bless Manchester’s rain), but shirtless Jos is always, _always_ appreciated.

Jos quietly hands Joe a bath bomb and smiles adoringly as he watches his boyfriend’s face light up at the way the thing dissipates into the bath, leaving behind dozens of red and white rose petals. (Jos had it custom made, because he could only find bath bombs with one colour of petals, and if your boyfriend is from Yorkshire, and you play for Lancashire, that is very _not_ acceptable. Jos can hear Jimmy laughing in his head.)

He quickly removes the rest of his clothing, before lifting up his boyfriend, and placing him onto his lap in the bathtub. Joe squeals again, scrunching up his face before hiding it in Jos’ neck, and letting out a soft moan at the warmth of the water, and of his boyfriend’s body. Jos wraps his arms around Joe’s middle, and kisses his cheekbone softly. The younger drifts in and out of subconsciousness, letting out sighs and whispers as Jos lavishes kisses and teasing love bites over his neck and throat.

“Want me to wash your hair for you, sunshine?”

“Mhhfh. Use your shampoo please? I like smelling like you.” Jos’ heart constricts, and he nudges his nose against Joe’s jaw lovingly.

“Anything you want, my love. Sit up a bit darling?” Joe’s resounding whine of displeasure has him amending his words immediately. “Just so I can reach over sweetheart, then you can rest your head again, I promise.” Joe does as he’s told, sighing in relief as his head remakes contact with Jos’ chest.

He feels this particular feeling alot. Every single time. Whenever he touches Jos. Whether it's a brush of shoulders, a hip-check, a kiss to the temple, or when Jos intertwines their fingers. It's always a sense of belonging, returning home, a state of ataraxia. _God, Joe loves his boyfriend._

“Than’ ‘ou. I ‘ove ‘ou.” He groans out, eyes slipping shut as Jos’ fingers press into his scalp, massaging firmly, but delicately. Joe will never understand how he does it, but Jos always has this aura of soft dominance. In a way that, Joe will always feel protected, cared for, looked after but also loved and cherished and adored.

“I love you more baby.”

“S’not possible. Obviously I love you more. I _am_ the one who asked you out.”

“Don’t get cocky with me sweetheart,” Jos’ eyes flash, and Joe shivers, only this time it has nothing to do with the cold. Jos tips the younger boy’s head back, before using the hand shower to wash the soap out of his hair.

Being the thoughtful boyfriend that he is, he only runs the water for a short second, making sure the temperature is to his sweetheart’s liking. The soft moan tells him that it is, but he’s asked Joe to use his words, so-

“S’good Jossy, thank you.”

He kisses Joe’s cheekbone in praise, and his heart swells when he feels the way his boyfriend preens.

Joe settles quietly, letting out a pleased sound as Jos’ hands return around his middle, grip tightening slightly, holding them closer together. He hums softly, as Jos’ fingers run across his abdomen, nosing against his now-washed hair. “You smell like me. I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle myself when all I want to do is tuck you into our bed and _love you.”_

“Love me then.”

“I always did sweetheart.”

Joe almost sobs, and twists in his grip, desperately pressing their mouths together, whimpering when their tongues glide against each other softly. “Bed?” He asks, before turning his face away to yawn, and burst into giggles. “Maybe not for… um _that…_ um… but-” Jos grins as he watches his boyfriend struggle to speak, before helping him along.

“I think you said something about letting me kiss you forever?”

“Yes.” Joe’s muscles release, and he melds himself against Jos’ front once again. “Yes, that exactly.”

“Okay sweetheart. Want me to carry you?”

“God, how are you not married? You should definitely be married.”

“Haven’t gotten the blessing from the parents yet.”

“You haven’t what!?”

“I mean Ali and Jimmy; the others are covered already,” Jos adds with a wink. “But would you? If I asked?”

“Jos. I would have married you the day I met you. _I knew I loved you then."_

“You mean the day I hit you for six in the county championship? And you called me a douche-rocket? And proceeded to glare at me angrily because I was wearing a- and I quote- ‘hot as fuck sleeveless tank’ that made you want to ‘bite the fuck out of my arms...’ You mean then? You wanted to marry me then?”

“Yes." Joe's response causes the cockiest and simultaneously most adoring smile ever possible to grace Jos' face. The older blonde hasn't even said anything but... "Shut up Mr Buttler.”

“I think you could find a way to help me with that, Mr Buttler.”

Jos grins, and there’s a playful glint in his eyes as he takes in Joe’s spellbound face. “Bed. Bed now. Right the fuck now.” Joe chokes out, and Jos agrees, tugging them both out of the bath, (taking a moment to dry his boyfriend with a fluffy towel because Joe only deserves the best) and into their bedroom.

Jos keeps Joe wrapped up in his towel, as he rummages through his drawer for some fleecy warm pants. (The younger must not catch a cold, Jos will not allow his baby to be miserable and sick.)

Joe waits patiently, sitting on the side of the bed. As he’s playing with the frayed ends of the towel, he notices a bunch of messages from the group chat on Jos’ phone. He unlocks it with his thumbprint, and his jaw drops.

**17:46 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_I’m even missing our rain delays_

_ 2 images sent  _

Both pictures are of Joe. Okay, there isn't really any sort of surprise there. The first one is of Joe sleeping in Jos’ arms on the couch- sometime before the rain had started. The blanket is drawn up to his shoulders, and Jos is holding him to his chest protectively. Joe has a soft, very content and very sleepy smile on his face, half-hidden by Jos’ pectoral muscle. Long story short, it’s adorable as fuck.

The second picture is of Joe in the rain. He’s looking up at the sky, but his hair is soaked through and his shirt (Jos’ shirt) is completely drenched. The sky is that mix of navy blue and orange, and the sunlight reflecting off the balcony is casting angelic silver lining across the younger’s face. You can just make out the fact that he’s smiling, and the last light of the sun is reflecting off the tracks of water on his face, and Joe admits, that he looks just a little bit _beatific._

**18:03 Jonny to ODI Idiots**

_Jos can you be my wedding photographer_

_Holy shit_

_Wait til Chris sees this._

_He’s currently showering…_

_Speaking of which… I’ll be back._

**18:08 Stu to ODI Idiots**

_Christ_

_Joey you look like an angel_

_Also…._

_Get it Jonny ;)_

**18:10 Ben to ODI Idiots**

_Is no one going to talk about the first photo?_

_Joe you look so happy, and Jos oh my god_

_Jos what the fuck I’m going to cry_

_What the fuck is this bullshit_

_I’m so mad at you both_

_Also Jonny go get your mans ;)_

_Jos I stg can you not hurt me like this_

_Fuck_

**18:10 Finny to ODI Idiots**

_Why is Stu blabbering like a fucking whale about his bird growing up and leaving the nest_

_Oh my fucking god_

_Wow_

_Holy fuck_

_Maybe you should follow Jimmy’s footsteps_

_That’s photo of the year right there_

_Well done Jos holy fuck_

**18:13 Chris to ODI Idiots**

_Okay we’re back._

_Jos._

_What the fuck is this bullshit is right Benny_

_Jos why do you never tell us about any of your talents_

_First you’re a phenomenal stripper_

_And now you can do photography?!_

_We’re hiring you_

_You’re photographing our wedding. And like, everything else, ever._

_Jonny’s right. Then again, Jonny is always right._

_And Finny’s got a point, Joey you should model._

**18:18 Jimmy to ODI Idiots**

_Jos is there a single fucking thing you’re not talented at_

_Fuck’s sake_

_Ali is gonna cry when he sees this_

_I blame you Jos_

_I’m leaving the room right now before Ali has a chance to see it_

_I’m going to have to go to the store and buy out the confectionary aisle._

_Ali is going to lose his mind._

_Dammnit Jos._

**18:19 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_JOS WHAT THE FUCK_

_GIVE ME SOME WARNING_

_MY HEART_

_Joey oh my god_

_Jos what the fuck_

_JOSEPH BUTTLER WHAT THE FUCK THAT'S NOT FAIR_

_JAMES ANDERSON_

_Get your ass back in this room and hug me I’m emotional_

**18:25 Eoin to ODI Idiots**

_Mark and I just got back from the store to see Ben crying on the couch_

_Talking about his duckie?_

_OH FUCK_

_JOS_

_THIS IS THE CUTEST THING EVER PLEASE_

_THE FIRST PHOTO IS SO CUTE OH MY GOD_

_JOS CAN YOU HOLD ME TOO_

_PLEASE_

**18:27 Mark to ODI Idiots**

_Jos since when can you photograph?_

_Actually, scratch that. Jimmy’s right._

_Talented bastard._

_Fuck you for that by the way_

_But also, that’s so cute_

_And you’re treating my best friend right_

_So un-fuck you a bit_

_I AM SO SAD WHAT IS HAPPENING_

_BEN COME HOLD ME_

_EOIN COME BACK_

**18:36 Ali to ODI Idiots**

_Okay I’ve recovered._

_Nice to see you smiling, and so happy Joey._

_We miss you both so so much_

_Fuck I lied I have not recovered_

_DAMN YOU JOS_

_JAMES_

**19:01 Jos to ODI Idiots**

_Oh my god Jos what the fuck_

_That’s not me_

_Oh my god it is me_

_Fuck._

_Thank you everyone_

_I feel a little bit shook <3 _

_Oh, by the way it’s Joey, I’m on Jossy’s phone._

_I love you guys so much <3 _

_Hope you all had a good night_

Jos comes up behind him, and Joe sinks into the familiar embrace, sighing contently.

“How were the photos?”

“Like you even need to ask.” Joe laughs, a little choked and a little wet.

“Told you. You’re an angel. You’re _my angel.”_

“I love you.”

“You know I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

“Don’t start with the James Arthur song titles Joey. I know you’ve been slipping lyrics all day.”

“I thought you didn’t notice.” Joe spins around, almost giving himself whiplash, gazing into his boyfriend's eyes. 

“As if I wouldn’t notice the song that we’re going to have our first dance to as a married couple.”

“Shush Jossy you’re gonna make me cry." Jos smiles softly, and kisses Joe's forehead slowly, savouring the moment.

"No crying angel. I was promised kisses.” Jos' sparkling eyes make Joe fall in love all over again.


End file.
